


Collide

by RZZMG



Series: Weasley het couple stories [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Community: smutty_claus, Consensual Infidelity, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, HP: EWE, Marriage of Convenience, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Picnics, Post Hogwarts AU, Post-Hogwarts, Pumpkin carving, Rituals, Samhain, Second Chances, Sexual Tension, Snow games, Summer, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/pseuds/RZZMG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began with a collision. Not a life-threatening one, where body parts were damaged, and people would wail and lament a loss, but it would ultimately turn out to be a life-altering one that had something to do with racing blood, and tears, and breaking hearts... and mending them back up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnseenLibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnseenLibrarian/gifts).



> This was my submission for the 2011 SMUTTY-CLAUS FIC AND ART EXCHANGE FEST. My exchange partner was... my excellent friend, UNSEENLIBRARIAN!
> 
> Exchange partner's prompts incorporated:Charlie Weasley x Hermione Granger, plot, action, romance, strong & resolute female character, snarky banter, Christmas, chocolate, one-upmanship, snowbound, thrilling chase, scarves used in creative ways, bathroom sex, wild sex, angst with an HEA.
> 
> Further challenge was to throw in as many well-known, cliché phrases as possible.
> 
> To Unseenlibrarian: I love you, Ook! You're a fabulous, wonderful, awe-inspiring friend, and I hope you like this story I've worked hard to bring to life for you!
> 
> Thank you to my fabulous beta MCCARGI who was of amazing (SUPER ULTRA AMAZING!) help in assuring this piece was as wonderful as possible for my recipient. Woman, you are a goddess, too, and I owe you one! Call in that favour anytime!
> 
> Thank you the mod - flyingcarpet - for putting on this fabulous fic exchange! We're sad to see you step down and hand over the reins to someone else, but we're very thankful for everything you've done for this fandom and that we'll continue to see you around the 'net!
> 
> Timeline: Post-Hogwarts-EWE (2000-2005).
> 
> I compiled some pictures to go with the fic. You can find them here. They include images of Hermione's various outfits and characters from this fic.
> 
> Please review, folks!

* * *

 

_**June 2000** _

 

It began with a collision. Not a life-threatening one, where body parts were damaged, and people would wail and lament a loss, but it would ultimately turn out to be a life-altering one that had something to do with racing blood, and tears, and breaking hearts and mending them back up.

The place was the Burrow. The month was June, and the weather was perfect – not too hot, not too humid. The occasion was to celebrate a brand new tradition: an Order of the Phoenix annual summer party.

That day Hermione had purposefully chosen to Apparate to the Weasleys' property, rather than Floo, for she didn't want the green, sooty powder associated with such travel to ruin the pretty, light lavender-coloured tea dress she'd purchased to wear for the event, nor for the violent whipping of the passage through the Network to upset the neat hair trim and style she'd had professionally done just that morning for this specific occasion.

All of her painstaking care was done, of course, with the specific intent of surprising Ron, the boyfriend she hadn't seen since the Easter holiday, when he'd had a few days off from the Auror Apprenticeship Program. His six-month assignment with Harry in Germany was almost up, thankfully, and they'd be able to spend a little more time together soon... and be able to explore their new sexual relationship, which they'd finally consummated during his last visit.

Appearing at the edge of the Weasley property, she walked the rest of the way down the well-worn path to their home, enjoying the late morning sun across her bared arms. The large, canvas party tent was just being set-up by the full contingent of ginger-haired wizards on site, so she turned towards the house, to go into the kitchen with an offer of help. In her hands, she held a tin of her homemade shortbread petticoat tails to share.

After turning the treats over to Molly and greeting everyone with hugs and kisses, she'd been shooed out of the kitchen. "Don't want to ruin that lovely dress of yours, my dear," Mrs. Weasley had kindly excused her from the work detail. "Ron hasn't even seen you in it yet!"

Seeing that the food preparation was well in hand -– Fleur, Ginny, Angelina, Audrey and Harry were helping out –- she took the hint and went to find her boyfriend.

Heading out the door, Hermione turned the corner of the house intending to head into the backyard, and collided with someone hurrying in the opposite direction at just that same moment. The impact jarred her backwards and she nearly fell.

With quick reflexes and a firm grip, the other party involved in the accident grabbed onto her arms to steady her, assuring her safety. "Alright there, Hermione?"

Looking up into the bright summer sun, her gaze fell upon Charlie Weasley.

Of all the boys at the Burrow, Charlie was the one she'd spent the least amount of time with, as he'd been stationed in Romania for work since his graduation from Hogwarts, rarely coming home. Yes, he'd been present to battle the Death Eater attacks at the Quidditch World Cup during the summer prior to her fourth year, and to safely escort her and the others to King's Cross that September. He'd also participated in the Triwizard Tournament's First Task that same year by safely conveying his dragons to Hogwarts. And alright, he'd been at Bill and Fleur's wedding as the Best Man, and he  _had_ led a small army of reinforcements during the final battle of the war. Despite all of those opportunities, though, the number of times she actually recalled them interacting could be counted on one hand.

Yet, for what little she did know of him, Charlie intrigued her.

She knew from Molly's photo albums that he'd once been the Seeker and Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, good enough to play for the English Nationals, if he'd wanted. His popularity with the witches was also well documented by the photos showing a handful of different girls hanging all over him through the years. Most compelling, however, was his ambition to achieve a universal standard for dragon rights, as they struggled against human encroachment and poaching. His fight in this arena was quickly becoming the stuff of legend in the wizarding community. Already, he'd successfully argued before the International Confederation of Wizards during their semi-annual meeting that the sale and trading of dragon parts, not previously regulated, be limited to those with special license and dispensation by each Foreign Ministry's Magical Creature Department, and that guidelines be established as to who, what, when, where and how such applications and indulgences be allowed. He'd been pivotal in helping to draft that legislation, in fact, and in seeing it passed the floor just this last year, going into effect on an international scale earlier this past Spring.

Hermione had to admit that she was a little star-struck by and a tad envious of Charlie Weasley's ability to practically charm constitutional liberties for a subset of magical creatures into law. If only she could apply his 'magic touch' to her work on house-elf and werewolf rights!

"I'm so sorry about that!" she offered, embarrassed at having run smack into the man's solid chest. "I wasn't paying attention."

"My fault," he easily offered, then paused for a moment to inspect her. "Wow, Hermione, you look reallybeautiful!"

That caught her attention.

She glanced up... and was pierced by his intense gaze. He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, with white ice chips surrounding each dark pupil. Ron's cerulean orbs had a ring of brown in that same place, the same as Arthur's, Bill's and Percy's, and George was like his mum and Ginny – brown-eyed. Charlie was the odd-man out in the family, apparently, having true recessive genes in the eye department.

His hair, she noticed, as the sun struck it just so, was also different from the rest of his family's -- more scarlet than burnished copper or ginger, as if it were unnaturally coloured from a box. Bill's came closest in shade, but none of the rest of the Weasley's had such a flame-red look to them. In contrast to his eyes, he obviously had the more dominant redheaded gene of the bunch.

Her hands had automatically rested upon his biceps when he'd grabbed at her, as a means of balancing herself, but now she was acutely aware of the size and strength under her fingertips.

And his scent, heady in her nose as they stood so close together, was of sweaty musk, clean skin, grass and the earth...

Right that moment, for the first time, she  _noticed_  Charlie Weasley... and her body reacted to that awareness. Her nipples tightened and she went a bit moist between her thighs, her heart began a staccato beat in her chest, and she could feel the blood heating her cheeks.

"T-thanks," she managed to stutter and dropped her eyes, mortified to be attracted to anyone other than Ron.

Abruptly, Charlie released her, made some comment as to needing to get something from in the house in an unaffected tone, and walked around her and out of sight.

Hermione counted the five and then let loose the breath she'd been holding, chided herself for her unintended reaction. She forgave herself for it quickly thereafter, though. After all, she hadn't  _meant_  to notice Charlie in any fashion other than friendship, but that she had was easily explained away as hormones. She missed Ron, and had been thinking of what they'd done together back in April a little too much lately. That was all it was.

Casting a quick Cooling Charm over her body, she straightened her dress in preparation for showing off to her boyfriend how pretty she looked and felt.

An hour later, the party was underway. It turned out to be a full house, with every invitee and their guests in attendance. The food was phenomenal, and everyone complimented her biscuits when they were brought out with the other desserts.

Ron continually touched her through the event; he kept his arm about her waist practically every second – minus the times he needed two hands to eat. He even snogged her a few times for good measure.

Despite the wonderful attention she received from the man she loved, and the opportunities to reconnect with people she hadn't seen in quite a while, Hermione spent the rest of that afternoon and evening acutely aware of how Charlie Weasley's intense, blue eyes followed her everywhere, uncomfortable in the fact that there was a part of her that secretly liked his attention.

 

* * *

_**  
October 2000** _

 

To her surprise, Charlie showed up for the Weasley's October Samhain ritual party. Apparently, everyone else was equally as shocked, as he hadn't put in an appearance at this particular event in many years.

When he approached her with a glass of chilled pumpkin juice extended, she graciously accepted it, trying not to notice how her tummy flipped at his easy smile and his husky voice.

For the hundredth time, she silently wished Ron would hurry up and arrive. He and Harry were running late finishing up the written part of their finals for the Auror Apprenticeship Program. Sometimes, Arthur kindly explained to her, noting her anxiousness, Ministry tests could run over. "But we won't start without them!" he promised.

"Miss little Ronnikins that much, hmmm?" Charlie asked her, a glint of humour in his eye as he took a sip from his own cup.

Hermione looked away from that fetching gaze, afraid he would see the truth of her small attraction for him. She didn't want to encourage it. "Yes, I miss him," she told the truth.

She hadn't seen much of Ron over the last two months, his apprenticeship often requiring him to work ten and twelve hour days, and to study all weekend – something he'd never excelled at in school and now had to work twice as hard to accomplish to meet the goals of the program. Her own job at the Ministry - hired by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures right after graduation the year before - was equally as time-consuming, requiring her, the new witch, to stay late and on weekends, and to bring her work home. Although they'd just moved into a flat in London together in late August, lately they'd been passing ships in the night.

Charlie was quiet in the face of her blunt pronouncement. Finally, he took a deep breath, his glance moving out over the crowd in the backyard, as everyone waited for the bonfire to reach its peak. "Lucky fellow," he finally said, an odd look flitting across his features.

Had that been disappointment she'd spied? Surely not!

Before either could say another word, Arthur called his son to him for help with gathering more wood for the fire. Setting his cup down on a nearby picnic table, he threw her a small smile over his shoulder. "Later, baby."

With that, he walked off, leaving her terribly confused.

The bonfire in the backyard was roaring and the sun had gone down by the time Ron and Harry finally Apparated in. She went to greet her boyfriend, and he met her with a wooden kiss that was quickly over. His behaviour of late had been similarly stilted towards her, and she wondered again what had caused such casual indifference in the man who used to greet her with an enthusiastic kiss each time they met. Yes, they hadn't seen much of each other lately, but they still loved each other... right?

There wasn't time to ask or consider the problem further, as the elder Weasleys called everyone to the circle of the fire, asking them to take up a place, and to hold the hand of the person next to them. She gripped Ron's on one side and Ginny's on the other.

Per the ancient tradition –- one that dated back nearly two-thousand years -- Molly and her husband burned the harvest sacrifices in order: a small branch from a fruit tree, a perfect shaft of golden wheat, and the innards of a ripe pumpkin. They then spoke the customary blessings of thanks to Mother Earth for providing a good crop this year, and requests to the wind, earth, sea and sky for safety and joy throughout the winter season for all.

"Wish time, everyone!" Arthur chimed in with a bright smile. "Ready? Go!"

Everyone closed their eyes and made a single wish. Custom dictated that it was not to be shared with any other, and that it had to be a wish just for you, not a benevolent wish for others. It was to be the secret of your heart's greatest desire at that time, manifested in thought and given life through feeling.

 _I wish for love_ , she thought.

There, that was simple, honest, and to the point.

When she opened her eyes, she just happened to notice that Charlie was standing across the fire, exactly opposite her position. His intense, blue gaze was focused upon her, and it burned her like a thousand suns with the heat of its desire.

Her heart took off under her ribs, and quickly, she looked away, feeling her cheeks bloom scarlet.  _Misplaced hormones - that's all it is_ , she tried to convince herself again. After all, it had been a while since she and Ron had...

She clasped her boyfriend's hand tighter in hers, feeling their sweaty palms rub together, hoping to garner some strength from the union of their flesh. He didn't grip her back, she noticed.

At some unspoken cue, the others quickly concluded their wishes, opened their eyes, and the round of hugs and kisses on cheeks (or in the case of married or dating couples, on lips) was initiated. Girls stayed put, men moved from lady to lady, circling in a clockwise motion.

Ron's kiss to her mouth was a quick peck. "Happy Samhain," he wished her, and moved on to his mum before she could respond. His cool affection hurt and baffled her, consuming her thoughts so much that she barely noticed as Harry, Percy, and George all appeared before her with their own wishes and kisses to add to her cheeks.

Then, between one blink and the next, Charlie was in front of her, and the fog over her mind lifted. She became hyper-aware instead, as he gripped her shoulders and leaned in. His kiss touched the corner of her mouth. "Happy Samhain, baby," he whispered in a voice that only the two of them could hear. "I wish you the love you deserve."

With that, he moved on to greet his mother, and Bill appeared before her instead.

It took her new partner squeezing her arm and whispering a question after her health to break her from the shock of Charlie's kiss. "I'm fine," she reassured her friend. "Happy Samhain, Bill." He gave her a quizzical look as they traded quick pecks on the cheek, but decided to take her at face value. He moved on and Arthur was before her.

The elder Weasley offered her much joy and happiness, reminding her that she was another daughter to him and was always welcome in his home, kissed her forehead, and then passed her off to Ron, who finally returned to her side and took her hand to complete the ritual.

Even as their fingers entwined, Hermione instinctively sensed that Ron's grip upon her was unwanted -– merely a duty for her boyfriend, and not a pleasure. She frowned, nervous as to what he was trying to tell her in these small, but important physical gestures. Did he not desire her anymore? What had she done wrong? Was he getting ready for "the talk" –- the one every girlfriend dreaded just before their guy dumped them? The idea made her positively nauseated, and took away any joy she'd managed to eke out of the night's activities thus far.

She hardly paid attention when the Weasley patriarch and matriarch said the final blessing upon them all, bringing the ritual to a close, her thoughts consumed by the potential meanings behind Ron's behaviour towards her of late.

Arthur clapped his hands together and rubbed them, the sound drawing Hermione back to the here and now. "Well, don't just stand there like sops. Let's pop some popcorn, shall we?"

Across the fire, George, Charlie, and Bill all gave a wild, wolfish howl in happiness that the "serious stuff" was over at last, and then knuckle-tapped each other, trading laughs. The circle took that as its signal that the party had begun and broke up.

"This fire's dehydrating me. Let's get some drinks," Ginny suggested to her over her shoulder as she headed to the picnic table nearby, where Molly had earlier set out pitchers of homemade apple cider and pumpkin juice, along with a selection of finger foods, small dishes, and cloth napkins. She'd also set out across the length of the table the selection of carved pumpkins that everyone had made earlier that day, and set them to glow in the darkness with a flickering candlelight spell.

"Yes, thank you," she politely accepted the offer, aware that Ron had immediately let her go upon the conclusion of the ceremony and went to help Harry set down a blanket near the fire for the four of them to sit upon. "The Jack-o'-lanterns are fabulous, aren't they? The ones I carved for Harry, Ron and I seem... amateurish compared to all of yours."

Gin shrugged. "We've sort of got this unofficial competition going as to who can carve the best one. It's been on-going for years, so we've lots of practice. Yours are wonderful, though. I love how you stacked them on top of each other with a Sticking Charm. Can you tell which is mine?"

Hermione grinned. "I'm going to guess it's the one that has funny little spectacles and a lightning bolt scar cut out of it."

Her best girl friend laughed. "Harry took one look at it earlier and threw me a naughty smirk." She wiggled her bottom in a happy little sway. "I'm gettin' some tonight!" She took her two glasses and headed for the blanket where Harry was currently seated, waiting for her, Ron at his side.

Blushing to her roots, Hermione ignored the sex commentary and tried to guess the others, not having seen them until just this moment, too caught up in carving three pumpkins to pay much attention to the others. "I saw Molly carve the Children's Pumpkin today – the one with the cute expression, so that's a cheat, but the dragon is obvious -– Charlie."

"Got it in one, baby!" he called across the fire to her.

From where he sat, she couldn't see him, but just the sound of his voice and his casual referral to her made her belly flip over. She guessed at who carved the rest, getting most of them right. "They're all just  _amazing!_ " she stated again in true awe. The skill it took to pull off most of these was astounding.

Her eyes strayed back to the one with the dragon carving; the beast was curled around a crescent moon, breathing fire. She reached out and touched it, running a fingertip over the wings. "So very beautiful!"

Charlie appeared at her side at just that moment. "It's yours," he very softly murmured, so that only the two of them might hear. "I carved it with you in mind. Take it with you after tonight, if you'd like. There's a Permanent Stasis charm on it so it'll never rot."

She couldn't look at him, frightened by her inappropriate feelings for him, knowing they would be obvious on her face if she were to glance up. "T-thank you," she offered instead.

The sound of popping within the kettle began and cheers rang out from the group – and Charlie took that as his signal to slink back to the blanket that he was sharing with Fleur and her husband after refreshing his drink.

Hermione snatched two glasses of cider, one for her and one for Ron, noting how liberally Bill salted the popcorn, and joined her boyfriend and friends on their blanket. The other family members were all situated much the same around the fireside, talking, laughing and sharing spooky tales.

For most of the rest of that night, Ron sat at Hermione's side, but he rarely touched her – or looked at her, for that matter. She tried to pass it off in her mind as his exhaustion and stress, but a seriously niggling doubt began to creep into her heart regarding his feelings for her. Perhaps they'd moved in together too soon, and he was finding the idea of living with her somehow stifling. Perhaps now that she'd finally given her virginity up to him, and the chase was over, he was losing interest. Perhaps he was finding it as awkward as she was to be living with someone, but rarely seeing them. Whatever the cause, she knew they'd have to talk about it soon.

Adjacent from them, she noted Charlie tip his head back and give a hearty laugh to something his sister-in-law said. Hermione's eyes unconsciously roamed the strong line of his throat and jaw, seeking out his lips. The memory of the tingling sensation they'd left behind on her skin when he'd kissed her tonight made her shiver.

Yes, she was going to have to speak with Ron soon. They needed to straighten this whole mess out between them and resume a normal, healthy sex life so that she could finally get over these weird hormonal responses that she was experiencing.

Her gaze strayed back to the picnic table, drawn to the flickering image of Charlie's dragon entwined about the moon, breathing fire. The symbolism was clear: the fabled construct of virile, potent male seducing the mythological symbol of gentle femininity.

" _I carved it with you in mind."_

Regardless of the outcome of her talk with Ron, she absolutely intended on taking Charlie's pumpkin home with her tonight.

 

* * *

_**  
December 2000** _

 

One and a half months later, Hermione was sitting by her lonesome in a Muggle cafe, sipping hot tea on a Friday night, and avoiding sending Molly the letter she'd written explaining why she'd be skipping Christmas at the Weasleys this year.

Not that the woman who's been a surrogate mother to her didn't know the reason already.

Still, she was finding it difficult to gather her courage to owl the note, knowing the disappointment that would follow.

The bell above the door rang, signalling another customer. She ignored it, as she had the last six occasions that it had chimed since she'd sat down the hour before. This time, however, the jingling carried with it an unexpected guest.

"This seat taken?"

She glanced up to find Charlie Weasley standing over her - again.

"Oh, hello!" she cheerfully greeted him, genuinely happy to see the man. He had, after all, featured rather prominently in two or three of her more interesting dreams since she and Ron had broken up the month before. "Please." She indicated he should take the seat across from her with her hand.

He joined her, settling with a feline grace into the chair.

"Not to be rude or cliché, but... do you come here often?" she asked, curious as to how he'd just happened across her. This wasn't a wizarding cafe, after all. "I'm wondering how you found me, or if this is just a chance encounter."

"Harry." He shrugged, as if that explained it all.

It did.

Her friend was meddling. He knew she would speak to no one too close to the "Ron situation" -– not Ginny, not Molly and Arthur, and definitely not Harry, himself – because she didn't want any of them choosing sides. It wasn't their fault that they'd been thrown into the middle of a nasty break-up, and she wouldn't go crying all over them, hoping to sway them to pick her over her ex, as Ron was doing. So, she'd bottled it all up inside and marshalled on, as any good Gryffindor would.

Only Charlie wasn't really involved, despite his blood affiliation, was he? He lived in Romania, far away from the rest of them, refusing to get involved in family politics much the same as he avoided Ministry politics at home – by making himself purposefully inaccessible. And, as a general rule, he was known to hate gossip and drama, avoiding it like the plague.

So, why was he here then?

The waitress walked up. She was tall, leggy, pretty, and dumb as a box of rocks (it had taken the bird thirty seconds to figure out what Hermione was asking for when she stated she wanted a cappuccino, and then she'd returned with tea instead). But, she cynically reminded herself, brain capacity didn't seem to matter all that much to a man. At least, it hadn't to Ron...

"I'll have whatever she's having," Charlie waved a hand towards Hermione's cup.

"Tea," she provided.

The waitress made some sort of ridiculous bulging eye contact-flirty gesture with Charlie and then hurried off to get his order ready.

"What is it with blondes?" she muttered in annoyance, taking a sip of her honey-sweetened tea. "Honestly, it's not as if that's even her real hair colour. You can tell it's from a box."

Charlie stared at her with that unfathomable blue gaze of his. "My brother's an idiot. Brunettes are infinitely more interesting and sexy."

Hermione's jaw nearly fell to her knees.

"So, she was a blonde, then?"

She nodded, unsure of how much to say or even how to start. Charlie seemed to be doing just fine on that angle, though.

"One of those twit-for-brains Auror groupies?"

She nodded again.

He scoffed. "Slags, the lot. Ronnikins blew it - his loss. Better fish in the sea, and all that."

Again, her head dipped in agreement.

He leaned forward, forearms on the table, clasping his hands before him. "Good. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's skip the commiseration stage, since I know you're not into wallowing, and stick to what we're both best at: intellectual pursuit and high adventure, preferably rolled into one. How would you like to come with me tomorrow morning up to the Scottish Reserve to see a Hebredian Black dragonlet hatch?"

Her heart thumped hard in her chest. "S-seriously?" she asked, very excited at the prospect. The only dragon she'd ever seen hatch from an egg had been the Norwegian Ridgeback, Norbert (actually, Norberta, as  _he_  turned out to be a  _she_ ), and being present at its birth had been such a wondrous thing -– definitely in her top ten favourite memories. "I'd love to!"

Charlie gave her a stunning grin, and once more, she felt that weird tumbling about in her belly.

He had nice teeth. Really straight and white. Very nice...

Damn, but her attraction for the man was difficult to ignore -– and really not a smart thing. It was simply too tacky to try for something with Charlie as he was Ron's older brother. It didn't matter that she and that git of an ex of hers were no longer together, she simply could not go there with Charlie. It would create too many complications...

"Great, then shall I pick you up at your flat, or will you come to me?"

The way he said that last -– in a naughty, sultry tone -– had her heart fluttering.

Gads!

"I... I'll give you my address."

Just then, the annoying waitress reappeared. She put Charlie's cup and saucer down in front of him as he leaned back in the chair. He showed absolutely no interest in the blonde bint, keeping his attention on Hermione the whole time. Frustrated disappointment flittered across the woman's face at being so stupendously ignored, and she left the check, hurrying away once she realized there was no action for her to get in on tonight.

Charlie took a sip of his drink and sputtered in surprise. "What the hell-? This isn't what I ordered!"

When he put the cup back down, pushing it away, Hermione chuckled as she spied the contents -– a cappuccino.

Oh well, better late than never.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

_**June 2001** _

 

Six months later, it was time again for the annual Order picnic at the Weasleys' home. Hermione almost chickened out and sent her regrets. She really didn't want to see Ronald and his new girlfriend –- a different girl than the one she'd caught him shagging in what had formerly been their bed this past November -- acting all lovey-dovey.

And then there was also the issue of Charlie...

She hadn't seen the object of her increasingly frequent fantasies since the previous Christmas, and she was still unsure how to properly classify these strange, simmering feelings she had growing for him. Was it just loneliness peppered by a healthy dash of lust, or was it something deeper – some connection between them that she was meant to explore? She was still undecided, and that uncertainty played havoc with her emotions.

In the end, she reminded herself that she was Gryffindor, and being bold was what she was supposed to do. Besides, she missed Molly and the others, and she'd deprived herself of their company because of her idiot of an ex for far too long.

Oh, yes, she and the Weasley females frequently talked via Fire-call, and they occasionally met up in Diagon Alley for an afternoon of shopping together, or for meals at restaurants, or came over to her flat to watch Muggle telly and engorge on ice cream, but she'd completely avoided going back to the Burrow since the break-up, as that's where Ron returned to freeload after she'd kicked him out of their shared flat. It was time she showed that two-timing fool that he'd thrown away a good thing, and that she wasn't in the least bit fazed by his stupidity.

She sent her acceptance by owl three days before the event and purchased the prettiest summer dress that her budget would allow, deciding that if she was going, she was going in style.

To her surprise, Charlie appeared outside her flat at half-past eleven in the morning the Saturday of the picnic. She was just putting on her earrings when she answered the door to a delightful sight. "Charlie!" she cried out in surprise, blinking. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

"Hey," he greeted her with that cocky, sexy smirk she was finding harder to resist. "You ready to go?"

For a moment, her mind blanked out. Charlie was here, at her flat, in a pair of sexy slacks and a polo-type shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and showed off his pecs - acting and looking like a date. "Did your mum send you?"

The minute the words left her mouth, Hermione wanted to staple her tongue to the roof of her mouth and glue her lips together. What a stupid thing to ask!

"No. I came to get you because I wanted to," he bluntly stated. His eyes roamed up and down her form with interest. "Looking beautiful, as usual, baby."

Her heart rate increased.

Oh, boy. This man's power over her ego –- and her libido -- was trouble with a capital 'T'.

"T-thank you," she stammered. "Uh, just let me get my things. Come in."

Rushing back into her room, she grabbed her wand and charmed purse off the bed, and found the new sling-backs she'd purchased to go with the aqua-coloured, silk and chiffon dress, slipping them on her feet. With a last look in the mirror, and a quick run-over her hair with her hand, assuring the French twist held, she rejoined her companion. "Ready," she called out, as she entered the living room.

Charlie was standing near the mantle of her hearth and looking at the pictures that lined it. There was one of her with her mum and dad when she newly moved into the flat last summer, one of her and Harry and Ginny, various frames filled with the Weasleys, one of her and Minerva at Hogwarts, another of her with those who had decided to return to school to finish up their N.E.W.T.s, and one of her and Ron. That one was face-down. Of course, Charlie picked it up and was assessing it.

"Do you still love him?"

The question caught her flat-footed and she paused, unsure as to how to answer.

There was a part of her that would always love Ron, because he'd been her first in every way that mattered, but he'd hurt her badly with his philandering, and that wasn't something she was willing to forgive. Once a cheater in bed, always a cheater in the heart, she'd once heard her grandmum state when she'd been thirteen and impressionable, and now she saw the wisdom in that old saying.

Apparently, her deliberative silence was taken as an affirmative response, because he put the picture back where he'd found it, face-up this time, and turned to meet her gaze. "Not my place to ask. Sorry. We should go."

"But-" she tried to clarify her long pause.

Charlie shook his head and cut her off. "You don't have to explain it to me, Hermione. I'm just the stand-in date today."

Her heart unexpectedly plummeted at his statement. Odd, as she hadn't expected that reaction.

Just before he took her Side-Along to his family's home, she looked up at him and told him the truth. "I don't love him anymore. That's over as far as I'm concerned. And I'll never think of you as a stand-in, Charlie. I'll be proud to appear on your arm today."

He didn't reply, but his grip around her waist tightened, pulling her closer. As they Apparated away, their eyes never left the others' face.

They had a wonderful day together, with Charlie the perfect escort. They laughed, danced to the country fiddles together, sat and partook of food and drink, talking to guests. Overall, it was the best date she'd ever been on, even if it hadn't been planned and wasn't really official.

From the scowling look on his face, Ron was positively jealous, too. Hermione felt a bit vindicated at that.

* * *

**  
_October 2001_ **

 

That October's Samhain ritual party had been interrupted by Fleur going into labour just before the sun set.

While Molly and Bill whisked her off to St. Mungo's, Arthur finished the traditional ceremony after dark, and Hermione knew that the special wish on everyone's mind that night wasn't for themselves, but for Fleur and her baby, despite the requirements of the custom.

This time, it was Charlie who popped the corn in the kettles, with Hermione's help, as Arthur left them to join his wife at the hospital. Everyone stayed outside for hours afterwards, lying back on their blankets around the very warm fire, bundled up against the weather, just hanging out. That the rain had held off this week, despite having stormed last week, was a blessing, as the ground wasn't wet and they could sit under the stars to talk and enjoy the moment. Hot cocoa and tea were made available, as were a variety of finger foods prepared in advance, and everyone partook, their spirits high.

Hermione sat on a blanket with Charlie, next to Percy and Audrey, while George and Angelina, Ron and his new girlfriend (three in a year's time!), and Harry and Ginny sat together across the other side of the flames. As they talked, Hermione began to get sleepy. She'd been set on a new project at work, and it was taking everything she had out of her. Now, lulled by the warm fire, she felt her exhaustion creeping in until it nearly overpowered her. Charlie encouraged her to lie back with her head supported by his lap and within seconds, she was claimed by the soothing darkness.

She awoke some hours later to find that she and Charlie were the only two still outside... and they were in each other's arms, a few blankets draped over them to keep them warm. The fire was still going and blazing; someone must have recently re-stoked it.

She felt a brush of softness against her throat and knew that Charlie's fingers were playing with her curls. Glancing up, she noted him watching her.

"You look like an angel when you sleep," he whispered the secret in a tender tone, unconcerned that he'd been caught in such an intimate action. "I've never seen you so peaceful in all the years I've known you, baby. You always carry responsibility with you wherever you go. It makes you tense here," his forefinger brushed over her brow, and then trailed over her temple to the corner of one eye, "and here. And definitely here," he stated, angling with the slightest brush of his skin down her cheek to the edge of her lips.

"I... that's because I'm...uh," she struggled to explain, finding it difficult to form coherent sentences just then, "my mum says I'm a... a serious person."

Charlie nodded. "She'd know you best." He brushed her long hair back from her face again. "I have to agree. You need reasons to smile more."

Her eyes were unconsciously drawn to his lips. They were pink and slightly chapped. She wet her own with her tongue in a quick swipe. Would he kiss her? Did she want him to? It hadn't even been a year since she and Ron had stopped seeing each other – and there was the tackiness factor of going for it with her ex's brother. Would this be too weird?

"What sorts of reasons?" she couldn't help but wonder, knowing she was provoking something here that could turn around and severely bite her later.

Charlie took the bait, leaning in, his mouth angling for hers. "This kind, love."

The moment his lips touched hers, she melted, every bone and muscle and sinew in her body letting go all at once. It felt like she'd been waiting for this moment for a long time and now, it was finally hers, and she could let it happen. The kiss deepened as she simply surrendered to the undeniable attraction that had been building between them for over the past year, all of her previous worries over doing this with him flying right out of her head.

Feeling her submission, Charlie moaned and thrust his tongue against hers, swiping with expert grace, cherishing her mouth in surging, lush tastings that made her head swim and her heart pound. There was nothing she'd ever sampled that tasted as good as this kiss.

His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb ran soft caresses over the underside of her jaw, coaxing her to open wider, to give more. Trembling all over, beginning to feel slightly overheated, Hermione quickly removed her mittens from her hands and tossed them away, uncaring where they went. All she wanted was to know the feel of his hair between her fingers and across her palms. She gave into the temptation, and his answering response was to groan, slide his hand down her body, grip her bum, and pull her hard against him. With a quick roll, he had her on her back, and his erection was pressing into the cradle of her pelvis. He was very aroused.

The taste of him was scandalously intoxicating. Hot, spicy, demanding. His hands were equally as wicked, divesting her of her scarf, even as his lips trailed over the revealed skin. He licked and nibbled down one side of her throat, only to continue around and up the other side. His teeth gently gripped her earlobe, nipped lower and found her pulse. He bit very gently over it and Hermione shivered. He laved the spot with wicked strokes of his tongue, and she moaned, arching into him.

"More," she pleaded in his ear. "Don't stop."

Her words apparently woke him from the sensual trance that had overtaken him for he suddenly stiffened, let out a hissed, unintelligible profanity, and pulled his mouth away, resting on his elbows above her. His forehead pressed down upon hers and his eyes closed. A look of intense concentration passed his features, as if he were seeking personal control.

"Wh-what's wrong?" she whispered, daring to break the silence, her heart pounding in her chest.

Charlie took a deep breath. "We need to stop."

"Why?"

She really was going to get herself in trouble one of these days with her constant questions.

His thick, reddish-black lashes parted and he looked at her with regret. "Because I'm not free to do this."

It took a second longer for the message to connect in her lust-filled brain. "You're seeing someone?"

He let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "Actually, I'm married."

If it were possible to be thrown into the pits of despair twice in one lifetime, Hermione could now say with certainty that she'd not only, repeatedly landed herself in such a locale, but that she was well on her way to becoming a property owner there with a great view.

God, how could she have been so stupid? This was Ron all over again, wasn't it? Only this time, she was the 'other woman'.

Tacky, tacky, tacky!

Fury boiling her veins, she shoved Charlie off of her and rolled to get up. He grabbed her and stopped her from leaving. She fought him, of course, but he was, well, huge with muscles. He easily pinned her on her tummy to the blanket and sat on her hips to keep her in place.

"Just wait and listen. It's not a marriage of love, but convenience," he explained against her ear. "She works at the Reserve with me. She wants to emigrate from the Russian Federation to England, but the Ministry there is different from ours. They don't want to let her go and have made it near impossible for her to get out by rejecting her transfer requests. She's one of their few experts in magical creatures, and is especially valuable to them. Her staying on their roles is a political manoeuvre designed to attract others to immigrate to Russia. She's basically a tool for their government and is very unhappy because of it. But, if she married someone outside the Federation, she could choose to live with her husband, and her people couldn't reject her request to transfer Ministries."

"Let me up this instant, Charlie Weasley," she hissed, "or so help me, I'll invent a hex just for you!"

He chuckled in her ear at the threat, finding it amusing, rather than intimidating. "Just stop and listen, Hermione. You're more rational than this, and I'm sure you'd have done the same in my place –- especially for a friend. I was the only unmarried guy at the Reserve, and Darya and I have worked there together for ten years. She asked for my help. We got married two years ago in a Muggle church in a small village near the Reserve and filed the document with the London Ministry. It takes five years total for her citizenship to be transferred, so there's a little less than three years left. After that, we've both agreed to divorce and go our separate ways. There's nothing physical or emotional between us."

Hermione squirmed, her mind turning over his words. She needed some time to process. It was too much to take in, too soon. "You're heavy. Get off of me."

He eased a bit of his weight off her hips, but not enough for her to actually make a break for it. She could still smell his cologne and the musky scent of his skin, and it caused riotous feelings in her chest.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, kissing her temple. "I'm not trying to lead you on. I want you. I really do. I just need you to understand the situation. I'm tied for the next three years, so if you decide you want something with me, you need to know why we can't go public or rush towards a more permanent commitment. If the Ministries on either end found out that my marriage to Dar was a sham, they'd reject her transfer, and I could end up in prison for perpetrating fraud."

She gaped. "You're talking about perpetrating adultery, too, as if it weren't a big deal."

"Darya and I don't love each other," he insisted. "It's just two names on a document."

"A very legal document," she challenged. "And anyway, you've turned the sacred institution of marriage into some sort of political strategy. Whatever happened to 'love, honour, and cherish'?"

"Don't be naive, Hermione. You don't have to be in love with the person you're married to," he countered. "If that were true, people wouldn't marry just to emigrate from country to country, there would be no arranged marriages -– which is a legitimate and accepted practice for many cultures in the world -- and divorce and annulment would never exist. Darya and I have entered into a business arrangement that doesn't even involve a name change on either of our parts. On paper, it's no different from if we'd decided to partner up in a business together. We're colleagues, just with all the protections afforded by the law for spouses. That's all there is to it. Hell, your employment contract with the Ministry holds more emotional investment than my marriage certificate."

Her head spun at how callously he was treating the whole situation. "Except that I can terminate my employment contract at any time without penalty to either party."

"Not true. The Ministry would suffer your loss of expertise, and you'd suffer the loss of income, so there is harm in that relationship's end. There won't be once Dar and I divorce. In fact, it's a win for both of us, as she'll have gained her freedom, and I'll have gained the satisfaction knowing that I helped a friend out of a very nasty predicament."

Hermione shook her head. "And what if she doesn't want to let you go, Charlie? What will you do then?"

"She wouldn't," he stated very assuredly. "But even if I have to take it to the Minister himself, she and I aren't staying married once her permanent transfer is completed. I'm not in love with her." He nuzzled her hair with his cheek and nose. "I've got a witch I do want right here. I thought I'd made that clear."

To her mortification, hot tears wavered before her eyes. "And I'm just supposed to accept that for the next three years, you're not free? I'm supposed to either sneak around with you or refrain from dating others and wait for you?"

He sighed. "I know it's selfish to ask, especially after the way Ron mistreated you-"

"You're right. It is selfish to ask, because this time, I'd be complicit in the adultery," she pointed out the obvious difference. "No, I don't think I can do that, Charlie. It would... change me. Now, please, let me up."

He lifted off of her and she sat up, keeping her back to him.

"It's just three years, baby, and then we could have the rest of our lives," he attempted again to convince her of his plan. There was desperation in his voice. "I promise you, Hermione: there's no emotional or physical investment between Dar and me. Neither of us wants the other in that way. Please, baby love, give us a chance."

Facing him took all her courage. "I'm sorry, but I just can't. It doesn't feel right, and I promised myself after Ron never to be any man's second priority. If-" She swallowed past the heart-shaped lump in her throat. "-if things change for you, and if I'm available..." She left the offer open.

His blue eyes nearly shattered her resolve as they filled with dejection and a resigned acceptance. "I understand." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I hate it, but I understand."

She made to stand, to gather her things and go, but he caught her in a fierce embrace as she got off her haunches and onto her knees. His mouth lowered to hover over hers.

"But in three years, baby, you can expect a knock on your door. As long as you're not married by then, I'll win you back."

The sob she'd been bravely holding back escaped just as he captured her lips in a soul-searing, passionate lip-lock.

Maybe it was foolish, but she didn't fight him over the rightness or wrongness of this affectionate gesture. Instead, she surrendered to it one more time, wrapping her arms about his neck and giving to him as good as she got. After all, this was most likely their goodbye kiss.

* * *

_**  
November 2001 to May 2002** _

 

Hermione received several letters via owl from Charlie over the next seven and a half months. She put them aside at first, not wanting to read them, but unwilling to toss them out for some mad, unfathomable reason.

On Valentine's night, alone with a glass of red wine and the box of chocolates that he'd owl'd to her just that morning, she opened them and did the unconscionable – she fell in love with Charlie Weasley.

**_29 November - It's the end of November already – almost a month since I last saw you. Do you regret our kiss? I don't. I hope you don't either. I'll admit I've wanted to snog you for the last year. You've been on my mind and in my dreams since the summer picnic when you wore that pretty lavender dress and we collided coming 'round the house. Remember that? Yeah, you were dating Ron then, but I couldn't help thinking about you. Something about you sticks in a man's head and heart, baby. I need you to know that I meant what I said to you on Samhain, Hermione -– I really want us to make a go of it. I understand your objections, but I'm not giving up hope._ **

**_22 December - This morning, one of the dragons fell ill. He's an older Welsh Green that's been on the Reserve since the nineteenth century. I think this is the end for him, though. He's blind already, and now his breathing has gone shallow. I'm going to stay behind this Christmas to be with him, so he isn't alone at the end. I hope you'll forgive me for not coming to see you. I know you said you couldn't have a relationship with me, but I still wish I could be there with you on Christmas morning._ **

**_1 January - Old Mo, the Welsh Green I wrote about in my last letter, died this morning. I was with him, at the end. He let me sit at his side and touch him as he breathed his last. I found out from the records that he was exactly two-hundred years old to the day. Isn't that amazing? Where do you think you and I will be when we've hit that age? I'm hoping we'll be holding hands. Happy New Year's, baby._ **

**_28 January - How's the weather in London? The snow blew down hard here last night, and this morning, we had to use muffled blasting charms to get out of the cabins. Tonight, there's not a cloud in the sky. Weird, isn't it? It's so clear that you can see the stars from horizon to horizon. Do me a favour, will you? Look up on the night you get this note, and write me back, telling me what you see._ **

**_13 February - Did you know that on February 24th, Romanians celebrate a holiday called 'Dragobete,' which is similar to Valentine's Day? The snowdrop I've included with this note has a stasis charm on it, like the Samhain pumpkin that one time. It's traditional for Romanian boys to give the girls they fancy snowdrops during this holiday. I also included some cordial chocolates that one of the villages nearby hand-makes, because every woman should get chocolates on Valentine's. I hope you like them._ **

She wrote responses to every letter that night, and mailed them out via owl the next morning when she dropped by the Ministry's new post office service, installed after the war.

They began corresponding on a regular basis after that.

Of course, Hermione should have remembered the old adage that "nothing good ever lasts." She'd just wished her small window of happiness could have carried on a bit longer than it had. But really, there was no ideal time for a heartbreak dropping into your lap...

The trouble began in late April when Arthur and Molly found out through the Ministry grapevine that not only had Charlie filed a marriage certificate with the General Registry Office in November of 1999 and not told them that he was wedded, but apparently, his wife was now pregnant, too. They'd immediately insisted on meeting his witch in June, when he was scheduled to attend the Order's summer picnic.

Hermione learned of this news at the Ministry's annual Beltane Festival, when Ginny grabbed her arm and pulled her away from watching the Maypole dancing to catch her up on the latest family tittle-tattle.

"Can you believe it? Charlie eloped a couple of years ago, and now his witch is up the duff!"

For a moment, Hermione thought she had heard wrong about that last part, or at the least, Ginny was mistaken. "W-what?"

Ginny nodded, emphatically confirming her statement. "Mum's mad as a hornet for not being told sooner. She found out by talking to Mathilda Crenshaw –- remember her? She's the Minister's secretary and the country gossip. Anyway, Mum insisted that Charles show up in June for the Order picnic with his wife so that they could be properly introduced before she becomes a grandmum sometime this winter."

At that point, Hermione's stomach had turned over and fell into her shoes. Numb from the shock of such unexpected news, she tuned out the rest of the story, her mind stuck like an old record on the words "up the duff" and "grandmum."

"'Mione, have you heard a word I've said?" Gin asked, looking at her askance. "It's the gossip of the century and you're daydreaming!"

From that point on, she made a half-hearted attempt to appear interested in the discussion, nodding and smiling in the appropriate places as if she cared a whit about what was being said. All the while, her chest felt as if it had been cracked open, and hollowed out.

When she escaped her best girl friend's momentary attentions and moved off with the excuse of wanting to go catch up with Kingsley, Hermione contemplated Apparating home for a good cry. Instead, she went and had a bit too much May Wine (in her defence, it had strawberries in it – her all-time favourite fruit), and hooked-up with Jeremy Stretton, a former Ravenclaw who was two years her senior.

The handsome, dark-haired wizard had been at the festival, and approached her with a glass of lemonade outstretched, and they sat and talked all the rest of that afternoon and evening. Sometime during the ten o'clock hour, they ended up moving away from the bonfire deeper into the woods and shagging against a very rough oak tree in the darkness. It wasn't even good sex as they were both quite tipsy and the kisses were sloppy, but she gave him props for managing to hit her special spot just right.

That night, when she arrived home to her flat, she tearfully threw away the dragon pumpkin that Charlie had supposedly carved for her, burned every letter he'd sent her by owl in the intermittent months since their first kiss, dressed in her warmest and most comfortable pyjamas, and fell asleep on her couch in the living room while watching the telly.

When Jeremy continued to call on her for the next several weeks, she didn't reject his advances, and it turned out that they had a fun time in and out of bed together. Sexually, their chemistry was so-so, but he was good-natured and interesting enough. She didn't give it a second thought when she'd invited him as her date to the Order picnic at the Burrow a month and a half later.


	3. Chapter 3

_**June, 2002** _

 

As Hermione stood in the Weasley's kitchen, enjoying a glass of fresh-made lemonade, Ginny came screeching into the house and grabbed her arm.

"Oh, my God, 'Mione," her girl friend interrupted her conversation with Jeremy and Arthur to pull her away for some girl gossip time. "You've got to see her! Charlie's witch is here with him, and she's gorgeous! Even Fleur thought so."

Once more, that sinking feeling in her belly overtook her. "I'm not really interested-" she tried to make her excuses without causing a scene, but by then, Gin had already managed to drag her around the corner of the house and into the back area where the party was in full-swing.

Unwittingly, her eyes were drawn to the flame-red of Charlie's hair in the crowd, that unique shade that was his alone, and her heart thumped hard under her ribs the moment she focused on him... 

The man she had poured her heart out to in letters in months only recently gone by was currently walking around in the yard with his spouse attached to his side, introducing her to the various V.I.P.s in attendance as "my wife, Darya."

Ginny hadn't been wrong - the raven-haired witch with the hazel eyes holding onto Charlie with a death grip was stunning. The woman didn't look like she was expecting, but then she would be only in the early months of her pregnancy at this point, so her figure would be intact. She moved with an elegant grace and was dressed in an alluring style -– a chic halter dress that hugged her curves and showed off a pair of rather large and nicely-rounded breasts. She also seemed to have a gift for charming the pants off of everyone who met her.

In comparison, Hermione felt like an inelegant country bumpkin in her floral cotton sundress and flat-heeled sandals, and her wide-brimmed garden hat.

She could now understand why Charlie had broken his written promises to her and slept with this other woman. Darya was a goddess. That coupled with the close-quarters they shared and the relative isolation of the Reserve, it had been inevitable that he'd tumble the witch, hadn't it?

It stung worse than she'd expected to know she'd never stacked up -- as if an entire nest of very angry bees had attacked her all at once. Her throat thickened, her mouth filled with saliva, her eyes pricked tears, and every nerve in her body was red hot and achy. Just last year, she'd been the one on Charlie's arm at this same picnic, and they'd been happy and laughing together. And he'd promised her in his letters that she was it for him.

Yet, here was the truth staring her in the face: another woman had taken her place at the side of the man she loved - _again_.

"'Mione? Why are you crying?"

Oh, God! She'd forgotten she had an audience!

Hastily rubbing the tears from her eyes, she faked a smile. "It's nothing. Just the sun is so bright. Don't you think it's too bright to be outside without protection?"

"You're wearing a hat," her friend pointed out, her gaze narrowed in suspicion at her.

"Where's Jeremy? I need to get back," she beat a retreat, disengaging her arm from Gin's and turning her heel back towards the kitchen.

As she marched back inside, she made the decision that she'd only stay for a couple of hours longer at the event –- just enough time so as not to appear rude, as well as to reconnect with old friends whom she hadn't seen since the previous June. Further, she would go out of her way not to look at or talk to Charlie. They were over, and he'd made his bed, just as Ron had. She wasn't going to wallow in it any further.

Several times in those ensuing two hours, Charlie openly stared at her on Jeremy's arm and scowled. Once, he'd even approached when Darya was off talking to some Ministry official, and it was clear from the determination on his face, that he was going to force an incident. Hermione skilfully manipulated Jeremy away into a larger crowd, which included the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, knowing he wouldn't dare be indiscreet in front of such an influential politician. Thankfully, she'd guessed right, and he'd dropped away, returning to his wife's side. His gaze continually followed her, however, promising a confrontation.

He'd gotten that opportunity just before she and Jeremy were to leave. Having excused herself for a final trip to the loo, to her dismay, she found herself unexpectedly cornered by Charlie inside the bathroom. As he shoved her inside and locked the door behind, he quickly explained to her that Darya's baby wasn't his; the woman was having an affair with one of the married men at the Reserve. They'd played the pregnancy off as theirs, though, so the Ministry wouldn't suspect.

Hermione shrugged, trying to shrug off her discomfort at his revelation, her pride too stubborn to admit she'd made a wrong assumption. "It's really none of my business, Charlie. You and I weren't even really seeing each other. It was only a few letters. Besides, I'm with Jeremy now."

In a quick move, he made her realize the error of such naivety. With a smooth turn, he had her pinned to the wall next to the towel rack and bent his head to fiercely capture her lips in a blazing kiss.

She made to slap him away, but he captured both her wrists and stepped in tight, so she couldn't use her knees against him in any vital parts.

"Listen, I hate the idea of you and that jock down to my heels, baby, but if you need this while I can't be near you then... I understand. It sucks for me, but you do what you need to do to keep the loneliness away," he murmured in her ear as he pinned her wrists to her hips, grabbing onto both and pressed his bulging erection between her thighs. "Just know this: in two and a half years, I'm coming for you, so don't get too attached to this one -– or anyone else after him."

It had been very hard to push him away after such a ridiculous pronouncement... especially when he dropped to his knees, slid her knickers down her thighs, pulled her dress up, and pressed his lips to her pussy. At that point,  _breathing_  had been difficult to accomplish, much less thinking.

She'd dreamed of Charlie touching her like this for months, and now that he'd explained that the situation hadn't changed at all... Oh, Merlin, he hadn't stopped wanting her, had he? He hadn't bedded that gorgeous woman or given her his baby. He hadn't strayed. She'd gotten it all wrong!

Her cunt was already slick with need, but one stroke of his tongue through the centre seam, and she was positively soaking... and shaking from head to toe. Holding her up with strong, sure hands upon her hips, he groaned in approval and flicked gentle lashes against the underside of her clit.

"Baby, you taste so good."

Nudging one of her legs over his shoulder, his hands slid down her inner thighs, opening her wide. With a sure touch, his thumbs parted her. "God, so  _fucking_ pretty. All pink and rose-coloured." He licked a slow path over each lip. "Look at that sweet clit. It's begging for me to suck it." He rubbed his nose against it and inhaled, actually gave a low growl, and ringed the sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue. "You want me to suck on it, baby?" He glanced up at her with those wicked baby blues and smirked. "Tell me what you want from me," he demanded, teasing her by circling her little nub again.

Forming coherent sentences just wasn't going to happen; somewhere between him locking the door and him kissing her again, she'd lost all higher rationality. Instead, she rambled out a litany of jumbled wishes. "Make me come... so hard... see stars," she pleaded in a husky whisper, speaking words she'd never had the courage to say aloud to her previous lovers. "Do anything... just do it now!"

His sinful chuckle in response was all male arrogance - sensual intent laced with the confidence of victory. "Just try not to make too much noise, baby."

He dipped his mouth back towards her quivering flesh and gave her exactly what she wanted and needed. With an undeniable and irresistible skill, his mouth latched on and suckled her clit, starting with gentle pressure and then increasing slowly, his tongue tickling the underside of the sensitive hood at the same time.

Hermione wailed behind her teeth, struggling to keep the noise contained so no one outside would hear. It took clapping a hand over her mouth to accomplish that goal, even as she arched her pelvis into him and rode his lips, whimpering and writhing in the exquisite agony of her pleasure.

He licked and stroked with amazing skill, and her need bloomed within her feminine centre, expanding until it enveloped every nerve of her extremities and curled up her spine. When his tongue slid down to dip into her moist depths, rhythmically surging into her to simulate what he'd like to do to her with other parts of his anatomy, that bubble of pressure inside burst, rolling across all of her senses in waves of golden light and velvet heat that stretched and filled every inch of her.

There was no breath to cry out his name; it had all been stolen by the pleasure.

Dear God, she was coming harder than she ever had in her life, not just seeing stars, but being birthed in them! She was going to faint. Honest to Merlin, swoon. She'd never blacked out in her entire life –- not even after Dolohov had hit her with that vile curse.

As spots swam before her eyes and dizziness assailed her, and she knew she was a second from going unconscious, Charlie stood to his full height and quickly secured her in his massive arms. He held her up, cradled and protected her from a nasty fall, and cooed sweet words that helped her cut through her hypersensitive shock and find her way back to sanity once more.

It took many minutes and a lot of deep, heaving breaths for her to calm and to stop shaking.

"Have you ever come that hard for anyone else?" he whispered in her ear and against her better judgment, she weakly shook her head, telling him the truth. "You see, baby love? We're good together. Really damned good."

He was right, the bastard. She'd never felt this way for any man. This connection they had -– it was raw, wild, and utterly consuming. It left her destroyed inside and out. But it burned so good while it lasted that she was tempted to give into it and let it be her ruin.

When her legs no longer felt like jelly, Hermione made it clear that she wanted Charlie to let her go. He didn't fight her, stepping back and giving her the space she so desperately needed just then. Retrieving her panties from the floor, she slipped them back up her unsteady legs, and then she informed him in as prim a voice as she could that she would like him to leave and give her some privacy.

Again, he respected her wishes without argument. However, before he escaped the bathroom to return to the party, he turned at the door and reminded her again not to give her heart away before he'd had a chance to win it. He'd then left, and she'd had to press a cold, damp towel to her brow and the back of her neck to keep from crying.

 _You already have won it,_  she thought with sadness.

She left the party soon after.

Jeremy did not stay over. 

The next day, she broke up with him, partially because she felt like a dirty, rotten cheat, and partially because she knew in her heart and mind that if she really hadn't wanted Charlie, she would have hexed him and made him stop. She was, after all, an accomplished witch. That she could feel romantically for another man while in a relationship told her that she and Jeremy weren't meant to be, no matter how good he had been to her.

 

* * *

 

_**July, 2002** _

 

A month later, when the shock of achieving the orgasm of her life had passed, Hermione had sat down and wrote up lists of reasons why she should and should not wait for Charlie. At the end of that exercise, what she determined was that it all boiled down to one basic root problem: she was letting someone else dictate her future, without any thought to  _her_  wants and needs. That was not only unhealthy, but also rather pathetic. She didn't let her own parents have such control over her decision-making, so why should she let a man that lacked even a quarter of that type of shared history have so much power in her future?

Bottom line: she resolved that she simply  _could not_  let Charlie's regrettable situation stymie her decisions to try for promotions and travel -- things she'd unintentionally put on hold, she realized as she reviewed the past nine months in retrospect, as she worried about missing an event when he might show up. She couldn't let him interfere in her love life, either; if she found a man she liked then Charlie shouldn't be a factor in whether that relationship should flourish or flounder. He had chosen his life's path, and now so would she.

Marching over to Gin and Harry's with such determination, she sat down with them for afternoon tea that same day and explained the new developments in her on-going comedy of a life over coffee and biscuits.

"I knew it! I knew you had feelings for him by the way you were watching him at the summer picnic," Ginny crowed, her face a mask of enlightened surprise. "And from what you say, it's safe to assume that my brother's in love with you, too."

Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. "He's married to someone else, no matter his lack of feelings for Darya. As long as that's true, I can't be involved with him. It's wrong."

Harry adjusted his glasses and gave her that stare over the rims that he only ever pulled out when he knew she was being obstinate.

"'Mione, you're being obstinate."

She sighed.

"If Charlie hadn't agreed to help his friend out, don't you think the two of you would be together right now?" he persisted.

She shrugged.

He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his abdomen, twiddling the fingers. "I think Gin's right: he's in love with you."

She fidgeted.

"Still, he doesn't deserve to get off so easily," Ginny countered, tapping a finger against her bottom lip and rubbing her very pregnant belly to ease her gassy intestines. "He's the git who screwed all of this up by playing the chivalrous hero. If he hadn't tied himself down to such a ridiculous commitment to begin with, he'd be free to be with you right now. And hell, it's not as if he couldn't just kick Darya to the curb today. She'd deserve it, in my opinion. I mean, why jeopardize everything just to have an affair with a married man who isn't going to leave his wife for her, and then make the double-whammy bad decision to intentionally get pregnant with his baby? It's almost like-"

She paused, narrowing her eyes in contemplation.

Hermione caught on, though.

"Like she was trying to guarantee that if Charlie changed his mind, the baby would still allow her emigration rights. He said the man she had been sleeping with was from England! This was her back-up plan all along! I wonder if the foolish man she tricked into the affair knows how he played right into her hands. He's stuck now for life with that mistake. They both are."

Harry shook his head and sniffed in disgust. "Bringing a kid into the world for the wrong reasons... That's not going to end well. Someday that child is going to figure it out, and then there's going to be hell to pay."

Gin shrugged. "Well, it would certainly be warranted against Darya for being a rotten slag. I'm just glad she hadn't tricked Charlie into fatherhood. At least he can get a divorce and then she'll be out of his hair for good." She waved a hand. "But that is neither here nor there. What  _you_  should be focusing on, 'Mione, is not letting my brother decide your future, as you said." She leaned forward in her chair. "I'm giving you the same advice you gave me years ago, when we were in school together: go out and meet other men. Enjoy their company and get some experience under your belt. Don't limit your opportunities. If things are meant to be between you and Charlie, then they will be someday when Darya's out of the picture. If not, you'll find someone else to make you happy."

Well, there was a positive, enabling affirmation if she'd ever heard it! Gin's counsel matched her own thoughts on the issue.

Harry sat up, tweaking a dark eyebrow at her. "Did you really give my wife that advice?"

Hermione tried not to smirk, but the corner of her lips wouldn't stop twitching. "You were the one with your head up Cho's... rear end. Besides, she was too shy to even look at you way back then, much less talk to you, and it worked out for you two in the end. So, are you really complaining?"

He looked over at Gin and gave her a dazzling smile, reaching out to stroke over her barely showing baby bump. "Absolutely not. Wouldn't have it any other way."

 

* * *

 

_**August 2002 to October 2002** _

 

After her discussion with Harry and Ginny, Hermione felt rather rejuvenated. She spent the next few months joining in the fun with her friends and co-workers whenever they went out to a club or to the pub. She met some nice men, but didn't find any of them interesting enough to kiss, much less anything else. Sharing drinks and some good conversations was the extent of it, and she was fine with that.

That October, she decided to skip the Samhain ritual at the Weasleys that year in favour of attending the Ministry's Halloween Charity Ball –- an event she'd been avoiding since the end of the war, for there were always investigative reporters mingling with the crowd, and she was perpetually uncomfortable with journalists after having dealt with Rita Skeeter. As Harry and Ron also avoided these types of events, needless to say, the Minister had been crowing for at least one of 'The Golden Trio' (as she and her two best friends had been dubbed by the press) to put in an appearance. Hermione decided that this year, she would take up the gauntlet and see what all of the hubbub was about.

Since they were basically the same size, she borrowed from her mother the silk Parisian gown that Eleanor Granger had worn to celebrate her twenty-fifth anniversary the year before, transfigured it to fit her curves and colour-charmed it from silver to scarlet, and went to the Ball with Percy and a very pregnant Audrey, who had insisted upon accompanying her, as it was her first time attending one of these functions. They played nice with Kingsley for a while, met some of the movers and shakers in the New Ministry, and then broke for some hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Of course, of all the attractive, single men at the Ball that night, Hermione just had to pick the one guaranteed to be a bad influence on her to be interested in...

Draco Malfoy had spent the years since the war attempting to repair the damage to his family's name by making a lot of charitable donations and investing his family's fortune in business ventures that profited the growth of the community, not just the size of his Galleon piles. He'd matured a lot in those four years.

Yet some things would never change, she would wryly think as he approached her from the sidelines and greeted her with one snarky comment after the other.

" _Good to see you finally tamed that bush on your head before it bit someone, Granger."_

" _Be still my heart. Did Gryffindor's perfect former Princess just profane?"_

" _I'm not sure it's possible to do such a thing to myself, Golden Girl, but if you'd care to help me...?"_

" _Running away already, Granger? But you haven't even tried the chocolate-dipped strawberries! I'm told even someone as prudish and repressed as you could orgasm with a single bite."_

After trading some serious insults about his ferrety looks, his "honourable" heritage, and his complete lack of  _savoir faire_  when it came to delivering a really original insult, she took Malfoy's advice and tried the chocolate-dipped strawberries... from his hand... in a hushed, upstairs hallway where no guests were supposed to tread... with the only light provided by the silvery moon filtering down through the windows beside them. Their gazes locked as she'd licked his fingers clean.

He took her home that night and fucked the stuffing out of her.

They'd begun officially dating after that.

 

* * *

 

_**November 2002 to September 2003** _

 

Hermione's romance with Draco lasted ten and a half, rose-coloured months. He swept her off her feet... and then he dumped her flat on her arse when his inheritance and his status as a "recognized" Malfoy were threatened by his parents.

Apparently, they'd given him an ultimatum: being disowned if he persisted in dating someone "not of the pure-blood persuasion," or coming back to the fold.

They hadn't broken up that September on good terms, needless to say.

After that, Hermione was in no mood to deal with anyone _,_  falling into a deep depression. She went to work, because she had to, but she avoided all outside socialization.

She sent her regrets and skipped out on the Samhain ritual at the Burrow that October, having decided that she'd had enough of men and needed no further reminders that she was still not paired-off, or opportunities to run into Charlie, if he attended. That was pressure she didn't need or want.

That Halloween, she stayed home and passed out sweets to costumers, who came by hailing, "Trick or Treat!" at her flat instead. She popped some microwaveable popcorn and watched scary movies on the telly, and went to bed around midnight.

As she lay in her cold, small bed that night, she decided to cast her desires to the heavens even though she hadn't actually participated in the Weasley's harvest ceremony. Her rationalization was that she'd still been involved in aritual of sorts, with the passing out of candy to the children. That counted as a traditional sacrifice and celebration of the holiday.

"If anyone's listening, I wish for... I... wish..."

Her eyes flooded with tears and with a sob, she realized what she really wanted more than anything -– the one thing she'd never been able to really attain, despite all of her career achievements, and her multiple attempts to right injustices in the world, and her perfect attention to detail.

"I wish not just for love, but for _true_ love... with a decent person. I want him to want me with an equal respect and love and for us to have chemistry. I don't want him to be attached to someone else, or to cheat on me, or to dump me for what his parents and social circle think of me. I want a love like my parents have. Is that too much to ask? Haven't I done enough to earn that yet?"

No one answered her. But then, no one ever had when she prayed. She relied on faith to bring her whispered hopes to the right ears, nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

_**December 2003** _

 

Nearly two months had passed since Hermione's lonely Halloween night, and she had to admit, things had definitely improved over that time.

Refusing to keep up the pity party, she'd pulled herself out of her funk within a week of her major life's revelation, and reprioritized her life, making sure that her career balanced out her time for personal enjoyment. She didn't take work home anymore, and she didn't work more than forty-five hours a week. She dedicated one night a week to go out with her friends, and had brunch every Sunday with her parents. And she didn't date any men, despite a number of interested inquiries. She'd decided that she was going to try being happy by herself for a bit before including an extra person into the mix.

The break did her wonders, and within a few weeks, she was feeling much more levelheaded and of greater cheer. She even agreed to attend the Weasley's Yule party on Christmas Eve (but only because Ginny whined in her ear for an hour about how she'd missed her best girl friend at Samhain). To Hermione's surprise, she found that shopping for gifts for her friends – her second family – got her spirits back where they belonged that much faster, so she'd easily forgiven Gin's manipulation.

On Christmas Eve morning, when she appeared at the Burrow's front door with an overnight bag and charmed pouch full of presents in hand, she was oddly disappointed to learn from Gin that Charlie would not be in attendance this year. To be truthful, she'd been hoping to see him, so they could talk and clear the air. She needed closure there, as it was the only relationship in her life that was still open-ended. If she was to make a new go of her life, she wanted this chapter finished, too. Sadly, it seemed, she'd have to do this by letter, rather than the face-to-face she'd wanted.

Charlie made an unintentional liar out of his sister an hour later when he surprised them all by appearing in the Floo, looking far too luscious and tempting in dark jeans and a sapphire-coloured knit jumper. "Happy Christmas, Weasleys!" he called out from the fireplace, and suddenly the living room was flooded with his family members, all throwing their arms about him and pounding him on the back, welcoming him home.

When the customary greetings had been met, and the crowd moved back into the kitchen to partake of Molly's freshly-baked apple crumble and warm poshote, he dared to cross over to her. "Hey."

She tried to play it cool. "Hello, Charlie. Happy Yule."

He hesitated only a moment, and then she was in his arms. "Missed you so much, baby," he whispered in her ear.

She hated to admit it, but she'd missed him, too. They hardly knew each other and yet, there was a definite connection between them, no matter that she'd spent years denying it. Just being in his embrace was like coming home.

And that bothered her more than she could explain. She had intended to tell him that what they had was really, finally through, yet in that moment, she found she didn't want to let him go. His scent was in her nose, his skin surrounded her, and she wanted this to be her reality from then on.

Godric help her, but she became more confused than ever, being of two minds over the situation.

Before she could reply, he was drawn away by Molly, bullied into the kitchen under cries of, "you look thin as a rail," and "why haven't you been eating properly?" It was only as she watched him walk away and heard his mum's comments that Hermione realized that he  _was_  a bit thinner than he'd been this time last year -– which had been the last time she'd seen him. What had caused him to lose at least a stone's worth of flesh?

 _Probably Darya's baby_ , she thought, which he was no doubt foolish enough to take on parenting responsibilities for, if she knew him like she believed. Yes, that could account for the change in his appearance... because surely it wouldn't have anything to do with her having been in a serious relationship with another man for almost a whole year -– a man she'd been over the moon for, despite still having lingering feelings for Charlie. Right?

Turned out she was wrong, again. He proved her thoughts completely incorrect when he later cornered her in an upstairs bedroom.

She'd gone into Ginny's room to borrow an extra pair of socks from her friend's wardrobe, as hers were soaking wet after the snowball fight they'd all engaged in earlier, and turned about at the sound of the door lock clicking into place. Charlie was standing in front of the only way out, staring at her with a predator's heat.

In a few, short strides, he was across the room and pinning her against the rickety armoire, kissing her like he was starving for her taste.

"I thought I'd lost you," he admitted in a soft, tender whisper, his voice trembling around his fierce kisses. "I really thought that slick Malfoy git would take you from me for good. I couldn't eat, I hardly slept. For months, Hermione -–  _bleedin'_ _months!_  But I stayed away, 'cause Gin said in her letters that you were really happy with him, and I wanted that for you, baby, even if I couldn't be the one to give it to you."

In a sly move, he whipped her scarf off, and slid her coat down her arms.

"When sis owl'd me and told me you two had broken up, I gotta admit that I was never so relieved in my whole  _fucking_  life. I know it's selfish, but I felt like I could breathe again."

"Charlie, we need to talk-" was all she'd managed to whimper, before he cut off her protest with some serious tongue and lip action. His heat wrapped around her like a familiar blanket, secure and firm and so very warm.

Things moved faster than she could catalogue then. His hand was up her jumper, pulling her bra cup down, caressing her nipple while his mouth branded and claimed hers. Before she could blink, her wet jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped and his fingers slid between her pussy lips, heightening her passion with easy strokes over her throbbing clit. She cried out a trembling gasp as he brought her quickly to the edge with assured touches.

"That's it, my baby," he purred against her ear. "Be here with me. Let go. Let me give you this."

As the fire fully enveloped her, she tensed around his hand and cried her release into the curve of his neck. Stars exploded behind her eyelids -– red and orange and blue bursts of colour that were nearly blinding in their intensity.

"Damn, but I want my tongue right here," he stated in a husky rasp and tickled her clit with one finger, causing little aftershocks through her womb. "I've missed the flavour of your come on my tongue. You want me licking your pussy again, baby?"

Founders Almighty, but she  _did_  want him to... but there were also many reasons why she shouldn't, the most important being that he was still married.

"Baby? Tell me what you want."

Poised on the knife's razor-sharp edge, she took a deep breath and let it out really slow, knowing what her answer should be -– what it had always been since they'd started this collision of their hearts two years before.

"You, Charlie. I want you. But we can't... you're not free. This isn't right."

His nose nuzzled her cheek as he rubbed against her like a giant cat. "I'm in love with you, Hermione. I have been since the moment I saw you in your pretty lavender dress at that summer picnic years ago and you stole my good sense. You caught me, and I'm tired of fighting the truth. No, I can't be with you all the way yet, and you know why, but I can give you this much -– just enough for us both to hold onto for the next eleven months until I am free. Let me give you pleasure. Let me love you in the only way I can."

He didn't wait for her response; he dropped to his knees, and yanked her jeans and knicks down to her calves. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was between her legs again, slurping up the juices that free-flowed like honey from her aching core. He ate her out while rhythmically pumping two fingers in and out of her, simulating what he really wished he were doing to her.

Her fingers burrowed into his soft, crimson hair and pulled him in with a silent plea.

He chuckled against her hot flesh, and the vibration shot her need into the stratosphere.

Charlie brought her a second time to a beautiful, blissful release, and then he did the gentlemanly thing and righted her clothing to assure she was presentable, not taking further advantage of the situation. He kissed her with such sweet desire in her afterglow that tears pricked her eyes.

"I meant it, Hermione. I love you." He held her tight, lifting her off the floor in his all-encompassing embrace with such easy strength. "God, baby, it's not long now, only eleven more months. Please wait for me. Then, we'll do this right. I'll make you mine forever. Just hang in for me... and don't give your heart away to anyone else, please."

He was offering her greatest wish up to her on a silver platter... and the truth was that she was terrified to accept it. She'd been badly hurt by men who'd professed similar feelings to her in the not-so-distant past, and now she was scared that with Charlie, she could be facing a collision of epic proportions – one that would cause her to crash and burn and never recover.

But she was Gryffindor, through and through, and so with a recklessness that was characteristic of her all-or-nothing attitude, she embraced him in a fervent hold and made the most frightening commitment of her life.

"I'll wait."

* * *

  

_**January 2004 to November 2004** _

 

Hermione threw her concentration into her career, helping to lobby successfully for more funding to be provided towards developing a cure for lycanthropy. She earned herself a sweet promotion and a solid raise as a result.

In her personal life, she and Charlie began writing letters to each other again. They were filled with the same intensity as their previous notes had been so long ago, but now they offered her hope for a future together. In a way, it felt as if she were carrying on some Victorian romance with the man.

He came to the Order summer picnic, to her birthday party, and to the Samhain ritual, and they agreed to only innocent touches during those events -– nothing sexual, and no kissing on the mouth, as Hermione was adamant that he respect the institution of marriage, despite the farce of his vows. They were careful during each event not to appear overly friendly in public. In private, they sat together and talked. He behaved himself admirably, and her respect for him grew by leaps and bounds.

Over those eleven months, they became true friends.

She waited anxiously for the time that she could become his lover as well.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**_December 2004_ **

 

Three years and two months after their first kiss, Hermione had her final, major collision with Charles Septimus Weasley. Again, it wasn't a fatal encounter, but it was most certainly life changing.

Once more, the place was the Burrow. This time, the month was December –- it was Christmas Eve, and the weather was crisp and chilly. Fresh snow from a front that passed through the night before was layered over the six inches that had previously fallen, and in the sunlight, the ground twinkled from horizon to horizon like a blanket of diamonds. The occasion was to celebrate a very old tradition: a late Winter Solstice and Yule gathering.

It was a late-morning, heading towards noon and Charlie had not yet shown up. His last letter had stated that he would be coming here today, and she'd made sure to put on a little make-up in anticipation of the news he would give her about his divorce proceedings, as he'd promised.

Bored and concerned for George -- who was always down around the holidays, missing Fred -- Harry suggested the adults engage in a little wager: they'd play a Muggle version of 'Capture the Flag,' and the losing team would serve the winning team all meals and drinks for the rest of the day. Everyone agreed that the idea had merit once he'd explained the game to them, and they divided up into teams (minus Angelina, George's wife, and Susan, Ron's fiancée, who had both agreed to stay and watch over the young children with Molly and Arthur).

The appointed team captains, Gin and Bill, came to a consensus on the use of magic: only the Jelly-Legs, Knockback, Trip, and Dancing Feet Jinxes, and Disillusionment, Finite, Petrifying, Silencing, and rope Incarceration spells were allowed to slow up the other team members. Apparition was forbidden, as it was considered too much a cheat. Sides were delineated an area of the property; the Red Team (comprised of Bill, Percy, George, and Ron) were to guard a red flag and its pole somewhere in the area north of the house, above the apple orchard, while Green Team (comprised of Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Fleur, and Audrey) had a green flag and their pole was to be situated to the south, in the marshland. The pond was excluded for the purposes of the game, as was the house and any standing structures on the property.

"Everyone should start with one hand on their team flag poles," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah, so there's no sneaking up in advance," Ginny nodded in agreement.

"When the flags are set, Team Captains should send up sparks from their wands," Audrey suggested.

Bill shook his head. "Then you'd know the general location of our flag, and we'd know yours. Too easy."

"Sonorus Charm," Hermione recommended as an alternative. "The air will disperse the sound, making it impossible to know where the voice is coming from, but we'll both be able to hear the other."

"Brilliant," Harry and Ron simultaneously agreed. "Let's play!"

 

* * *

 

The game officially commenced with Ginny's shouted, "ALL READY!"

The answering call from Bill came a moment later, carried across the distance with an echo that faded out near the horizon.

Immediately, Ginny, Audrey, and Fleur took off like graceful does across the snowy marsh, heading towards the hills, as the team had planned out as they'd set their flag pole into the earth. Harry and Hermione watched them go.

When the women were out of sight and the air was silent and still, her best friend and teammate shifted and cleared his throat, his breath appearing as a puff of white before his lips. "Right, so I was thinking: you should go for it with Charlie this Christmas. He's already divorced or in the process of getting divorced as we speak. Either way, it's close enough. Three years has been too long to wait."

Hermione hummed in consideration and looked at the sky overhead, noting in the distance storm clouds slowly moving in. They wouldn't be there until late afternoon, by the look of them. "Oh? And how do you know we haven't decided to simply keep it as friends?"

"Because even though you're obstinate, and haven't touched him all year, it's clear you're both dying to jump all over each other. The tension's thicker than pea soup, 'Mione. Seriously, even Ron noticed, and you know how thick he can be."

She couldn't help but chuckle, knowing he was correct on all counts. "Yes, well... you know that I hate when you're right, right? It's positively annoying. And I am not obstinate."

"Did you just agree that I'm right about something?" Harry asked in mock surprise, completely ignoring her remark about her character defamation. "Be still my beating heart!" With a grin, he raised his wand and cast a silent Disillusionment Charm upon himself, stepping back towards the high reeds all about and blending in. "FYI: you might want to find a good hiding place soon –- one preferably not across from me so we don't hit each other with spells."

She stuck her tongue out in his general direction, blowing him a raspberry.

"By the way, Bill thinks you two are hilarious," Harry stated, his voice drifting on the wind between them. "That wolfish nose of his has been sniffing the pheromones pouring off of you and Charlie since before your first kiss. He thinks it's funny, too, how you've been dodging his brother for years, so I'm not the only one who is interested in your drama, you know."

"Harry, did you read his thoughts?" she asked with a growl, hurrying over to a spot diagonal from him in the reeds, out of direct line of fire. She cast a Disillusionment Charm upon herself and hunched down on her ankles. They cracked as she bent down. "That's invasion of privacy you know, special notarized Legilimens or not. You should know better and be ashamed, Mister Military Intelligence-Sector Six Auror!"

 _"Fleur is equally amused_ , _"_ he stated, throwing the thought directly into her mind instead, utilizing his mind-magic abilities. He'd become rather proficient at the non-verbal spell over the years in his line of work. _"Her Veela side sensed the same thing as her husband, at the same time."_

Hermione sighed. She'd never get him to shut up about it now. If there was one thing she both loved and wanted to squash her best friend for, it was his good-natured matchmaking attempts. It had been his idea, after all, to continue seeing Jeremy and Draco even after she'd expressed reservations on both counts in the beginning of those relationships.

 _"Charlie's a good man, Hermione. He's a really good complement to you. You share a lot of interests, are both very intelligent and adventuresome. You'll never be bored with each other. Jeremy and Malfoy were your versions of Corner and Dean for my Gin. They served a purpose: they kept you from being too lonely, and helped you figure out what you didn't want. They helped you grow. Now you're ready for Charlie –- and he's ready for you."_  He figuratively cleared his throat. _"Hell, is he ever ready! I'm about this close to giving myself a frontal lobotomy whenever we're in the same room together. He's got a very... vivid... imagination."_

"Shhh!" she shushed him. "Or so help me, Harry James Potter..." She pointed her wand where she knew him to be, the threat of hexing him with a spell hanging in the air between them.

He didn't say another thing to her until Ron appeared at the edge of the reeds, pausing to cautiously look about, trying to locate them.

_"You want to take him? I don't mind you having the honours in this case."_

She had no way of acknowledging him without giving her position away, but she knew Harry would get the message loud and clear once she carefully moved forward to greet the opposing team's first victim to their trap. That it was Ron was perfect, as she'd wanted to somehow get even with the little worm just once for what he'd done to her years ago, even if the revenge was something as petty and insignificant as forcing him to serve her tea all night. Their past may all be water under the bridge, but she'd never truly forgiven him for being so awful to her. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and revenge was a dish best served cold.

She matched her ex's footwork so that he would think that the snap of twigs and dry grass came from his own steps, not from her stalking, and savoured the moment, waiting until he was almost directly beside her before springing her trap.

" _Petrificus Totalus,"_  she whispered, and nailed him in one shot. Ron stiffened up and toppled over, landing on his face.

Hermione nudged him over onto his back with her toe, getting her gloat on.

_"Good one!"_

"Thanks," she accepted Harry's praise and then stepped back to her previous hiding place, leaving her ex to the elements. Neither of them bothered to move him out of the light dusting of snow that was just beginning to come down, concentrating instead on the next wave of flag grabbers that might appear at any moment.

And really, Ron deserved it.

As she hunkered down for the next group of unsuspecting victims, she wondered how her team was faring. They were too far away to hear or see what was happening to the others and Harry's mind-speak thing only seemed to work when he and his intended recipient were within sight of each other – a few yards at most. They had no way of knowing whether Ginny or the other women had been successful and were on their way back with the Red Team's flag, or whether all three of them had been incapacitated in some way and Red Team was on its way towards them for a little thieving.

Too bad she hadn't thought to use the Protean Charm trick for her team to communicate, but then that wasn't one of the allowable spells in this game, anyway, so it was a moot regret.

Twigs snapped near the entrance to the clearing. Someone was approaching by stealth.

 

* * *

 

The beginning of the end for her team came with a simple spell.

" _Incarcerous,"_  Percy's voice rang out, and ropes whipped through the air towards a hidden Harry, as if the enemy knew where he was.

Harry dodged, and in doing so, lost his Disillusionment. He rolled and fired off a series of allowed jinxes towards the enemy in quick succession. He was met with a formidable counter in Bill and George, joining their brother. Percy quickly released Ron from his Petrify with a dramatically wrought,  _"Finite Incantatum."_

Hermione shot off her spells as quickly as Harry did. It seemed that despite the years since she'd last duelled, she hadn't lost her touch. Distracting Ron with a  _"Silencio,"_  and zapping George with a _"Tarantella,"_  forced Bill and Percy to waste precious seconds to try to cast reversal charms. That gave her enough time to Petrify Bill, the more experienced and dangerous caster of the remaining two, and for Harry to Incarcerate Percy.

"That wasn't so hard," she arrogantly announced, twirling her wand and standing up. She let her Disillusionment spell go and stepped out into the open.

Harry came out from his hiding spot as well. "Nicely done," he complimented her.

"You, too," she offered.

They shook hands.

In the next breath, someone shot both her and Harry from behind with  _"Incarcerous"_  and  _"Silencio"_. She and her best friend both fell to their knees in the flattened reeds as ropes wrapped about their torsos and upper thighs, preventing use of hands and legs.

Who had nailed them? The spell cast had been non-verbal, so there was no indication as to the wizard or witch's identity. Had one of her teammates changed sides on them?

To her surprise, Red Team's unofficial fifth member stepped out of the reeds nearby. It was Charlie, and he had her team's flagpole in one hand. With a confident smirk, he stepped past both of his conquests to liberate his brothers with some very competent wandwork. Freed, all four of the men stood up, grinning like fecking fools.

Well, now it seemed the sides were even –- five to five. But the question remained: when did Charlie arrive, and why did he join Red Team, the enemy? If he loved her as much as he professed, he should have been helping her side! What sort of treachery was this?

"Gin's probably got our flag by now," Ron pointed out the obvious, his gaze turning off in the direction of his own home base.

"Relax, ol' chum. We'll do it like we planned," George clapped him on the shoulder. "You, Billy Willy, and Perce stay here to wait for our dear, baby sister and the other girls to come 'round the bend, and when they do... wham! You hammer 'em. Meanwhile, Charlie and I will take their flag to our hill and declare victory. Then, we can all go inside for a cup of hot chocolate, served to us by our new slaves for the rest of the day."

Oooh, it was a sneaky plan -– and brilliant, Hermione had to admit.

She traded a glance with Harry to that effect and he shrugged and nodded, agreeing with her unspoken summation. Unquestionably, there was something to be said for the Gryffindor penchant of recklessly charging in and taking the initiative. In this case, it had paid off for Red Team.

The little bit of sun in the sky above was unexpectedly blacked out above her, and Hermione glanced up...to spy Charlie standing over her, smirking in triumph. "I'm claiming my war prize now," he stated with a sinister chuckle.

Tossing George the flagpole, he reached down and grabbed her up, throwing her over his shoulder like some sort of caveman with an easy strength that shocked her. His bulky, powerful muscles shifted under her abdomen to accommodate her weight.

Hermione was mortified at her helpless position, furious at being treated so casually like a sack of potatoes... and seriously aroused by Charlie's blatant masculine assertion of entitlement of her person. It made her positively wet to feel his fingers pressing into the back of her jeans-clad thigh, holding her in place with so little effort –- dominating her.

"Do I need to keep the  _Silencio_  on?" he asked her, looking slightly over his shoulder at her. "Or can I trust you not to cheat and scream out for your teammates?"

She twisted around and gave him a glare.

Her silent censure made Charlie's smile bloom until it stretched from ear to ear. "I'm trusting you, baby," he pointed out, and tapped her on the head with his wand, releasing her from the Silencing spell. He kept her incarcerated by ropes, however. "Right, let's go," he commanded his younger brother, and led the way back out of Green Team's territory. "The rest of you, cover us," he instructed as he marched past a smirking Bill.

"When did you get here?" she demanded as he picked his way carefully through the crackling reeds. "And why weren't you playing for my team?"

She could sense his wicked smile. "A minute or so after your team tromped off towards this end of the property. I came across Bill and the boys heading in the opposite direction, and they looked one man short compared to your numbers. Seemed only fair."

She tsk'd. "Bloody Gryffindor," she grumbled.

He chuckled again. "Right back at you, baby. Now hush, I'm concentrating."

As soon as they were beyond the last line of golden marsh reeds, her captor actually jogged all the way back into the province of Red Team with her draped across him, her weight seemingly insignificant. From her view, she could only spy his muscular thighs and calves scissoring with each step, and noted how tight his dark jeans fit his well-defined bum. Morgana still her heart!

"Enjoying the view," he teased her as he maintained a steady pace. "I know I am." His hand came down across her rump in a heavy smack to emphasize his words.

Hermione couldn't help it; she moaned. Gods, that had felt good! Her clit throbbed already from the bump-and-grind against his shoulder with each step, but getting spanked, too... Her knickers dampened with her increasing arousal.

He stopped then, quite suddenly. "Go on," he offered George, when she heard the crunch of the snow from the other man's feet slow and finally stop. "I need a breather. She's heavier than she looks."

Totally not true, she knew, as he wasn't even panting that hard, and she didn't weigh all that much for someone her height.

"Riiiiiight," George replied, and Hermione could hear the scepticism and knowledge in his tone. "Wish us luck mate, or that pretty filly will have you on your knees tonight."

"Merlin, I hope so," Charlie chuckled, and then she heard George take off again, his footsteps running now over the snow.

 

* * *

 

Hermione let Charlie's comment work its magic upon her.

"What do you think, baby? You want that, too?" he asked her. "Me, on my knees for you?"

Torn with indecision, she remained silent for a moment, biting her bottom lip. Charlie took that as her being willful, however, and gave her another good spanking -- on both cheeks this time. Hermione moaned, twisted, loving the sharp bite.

"Answer me, Hermione. Do you want me licking you again?"

Trembling with need and anticipation, she wet her lips before speaking. "Are you really, truly divorced yet?"

He let out a booming laugh. "You're the most obstinate woman I know. Yes, baby love, papers came through the other day. Wanna see?"

"Thank the Founders," she stated in a relieved rush, her anticipation for them to get down and dirty now bursting at the seams. "No need to show me proof. I trust you. But, Charlie, if you don't take me to bed this minute, I'm going to consider hiring a rentboy to take care of things for me, I swear it."

He turned in a circle to get his bearings and, presumably, to assure that there was no one else in sight to interrupt. From her vantage point, Hermione could see that they were near the smokehouse that Arthur used to cure his meats, and abutting it, the separate shed where the herbs and flowers that Molly grew in her garden and picked were hung up to dry. No one else was around. No voices could be heard, either.

With quick decision, her subjugator opened the door to Molly's shed and closed it behind them, locking it with his wand. He then warded the place for sound and against interruption, before putting her down on the only table in the centre of the room. He freed her from the ropes with a simple incantation, and then stared down at her with eyes filled with lustful need.

"This okay or do you want me to Apparate us somewhere else?" he offered.

She rubbed her damp palms over her jeans to dry them. "It's fine. I can't wait anymore. Three years is long enough." Reaching up, she removed her hand-knit hat, praying for no hat-hair or worse, static. She unwound her scarf from about her neck and removed her mittens. These she tossed onto the lone, wooden chair next to the table.

Charlie watched her in silence, his gaze heating up as her answer became all-too-clear to him.

Gathering her courage, she began unbuttoning her jacket, and letting it fall back behind her on the table. Her jumper was next; with a quick pull, it was over her head and tossed into the growing pile on the chair. She reached down and pulled her snow boots from her feet, leaving her socks on for now.

The shed was cold, so retrieving her wand from the inside pocket of her coat behind her, she waved a Warming Charm over them. For good measure, she cast a Contraceptive Charm on her belly. Those tasks done, she dumped both the wand and her coat onto the chair, too.

When she turned to look up at her partner, he was just then shucking his coat, following her lead. When his jumper came off, he wore only a white cotton tee under it. That was up and over his head in an easy yank, and then he was shirtless, and she got her first good glance at his chest.

Gads, he was big! Marred only by a long, thin scar on his arm and a large, tribal tattoo on his left upper arm and shoulder, he was otherwise perfect. His body was very tanned from outdoor work; his freckles hardly showing against the dusky hue of his skin as a result. He was also hairless, shaved clean, even under the arms. There remained only a very light, barely-there trail of reddish hair from his belly button leading into his jeans. Every inch of him was ripped with powerful muscle, his abs, pecs, and biceps clearly defined.

He was, in a word, magnificent.

"Oh, my," she whispered, feeling quite intimidated. Her body wasn't anywhere near the level of perfection as her would-be lover.

The truth was that she took after her mum's genetics and was bird-thin with very little shape. Ginny joked that she still had the body of a young teenager, just waiting to sprout. At twenty-five, she thought she'd most likely missed the boat. Her breasts were on the unimpressive side, too -- small B cups, with Galleon-sized, brown nipples that were a little too big for her tastes.

Having lived in a girls dorm for seven years, she knew how she stacked up: a little below average. Would Charlie think so too? He'd touched her under her jumper and seen her without knickers, but never the whole package in one go.

"I've got my scars," he stated with a tender smile, as if he'd read and understood her insecurities and wanted to allay them for her. Turning around, he showed her his back.

Hermione gasped in shock. From nape to sway, he was criss-crossed with wicked scratches, and she knew by their width that these had not come from the typical fingernail gouges that some women left behind on their lovers. That assumption was made firm when he lowered the jeans over his right hip, and she noted there were stitch marks where a hunk of flesh had actually been removed.

"Dragons don't like to be corralled," he explained, looking at her over his shoulder. "So far, I've been lucky that this is it. You should see some of the other guys."

He flipped around to face her, giving her that charming smile that she was quickly falling for.

"So, I've shown you mine, baby... All's fair, yeah?"

He was right. Besides, she wasn't hideous by any means. It was only her low confidence talking.  _Get a grip_ , she silently chastised herself. This was Charlie, the man she'd been have an on-and-off affair with for years. Maybe now that they were finally together, things would turn out okay, as Harry believed.

Then again, if her fears became founded, then she'd simply hang up her promiscuity hat and book the next flight to Rome to join the Holy See.

Right?

Right.


	5. Chapter 5

Decision made to go all in or bust, Hermione reached down, whipped her cotton long-sleeve off, and followed that bold move up with reaching behind and unclasping her bra. Sliding the straps from her shoulders, she swallowed her modesty and showed him her body.

Charlie's hands reached out and palmed her breasts, feeling their weight.

She met his eye, refusing to look away, feeling the flush of heat throughout her entire body as he simultaneously rolled both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

"Don't know why you were worried. They're perfect, baby. Do me a favour and lay back," he bid. She did as he asked, and he followed, never releasing his hold, stepping boldly between her jeans-clad thighs. "Exactly where I want you," he murmured, bent his body in half over her, and took her left breast into his lush, wet mouth.

Spiking electricity shot up Hermione's spine and into the back of her brain as he nursed upon her nipples, one at a time, bringing both to prominence with teasing nibbles and harder bites. Smallish they may be, but her beasts were very sensitive. In moments, she was arching into him, moaning, and undulating her hips to press against his rock-hard abs. 

Gods, his mouth was wicked! He hadn't even kissed her yet and she was so ready for him, she was shaking with anticipation.

His hands roamed across her frame, up and down, kneading her breasts, trailing along her sides – learning her shape and the feel of her skin. It was such an erotic moment, as he took his time, enjoying her flesh with his tongue.

When she finally begged aloud, he moved his fingers towards the clasp of her jeans and unbuttoned and unzipped them. She lifted her bum at his silent urging as he tugged them off of her, taking her knickers with. Tossing them with the rest of the clothing, he put gentle pressure on her legs.

"Open up for me, baby. Let me see that sweet pussy again."

Both embarrassed and aroused by his language, she hesitantly did as he bade, prying her shaking knees apart.

"Oh,yeah. Look at that -- so pretty, so wet." He dipped his head closer. "I'm gonna eat your beautiful cunt now, Hermione. Better hold on."

Hermione was certain that her heart was going to explode out of her chest the moment his tongue worked her slit, gathering up her juices in a slow, languorous glide, parting her folds. Blistering need fired her belly, drove her towards insanity as his hot, wet tongue feasted with burning hunger. Rasping over her sensitive clit, circling the tight bud and latching on with suckling pressure caused her to buck her hips. He grabbed her bum with a hard grip to hold her in place and drew more of her flesh deeper into his mouth. A long, deep moan escaped her mouth -– a sound she'd never made in the whole of her life, even with her former partners.

He growled in response, the sound vibrating against her moist centre, snapping the tight coil of friction in her womb. A thick finger entered her a moment later, parting her channel.

"Mmmm... sweet and so bloody tight. Damn, but you taste just as I remember, baby." His voice was a rough whisper against the inside of her thigh. His finger began a smooth, gliding rhythm opening her up. "Soft, like velvet. You're going to grip my cock hard and never let go, aren't you?"

His provocative words... his fiery touch...

"Charlie, I want you," Hermione gripped his hair and pulled a bit. "No more waiting!"

He stood up, removing his hands from her person to reach for the clasp on his jeans. With an assured confidence, and one hell of a smouldering glance, he stared at her through hooded eyes as he slowly unbuttoned and unzipped. The fabric of his denims rasped over his hips and was shoved to his knees. He wore nothing underneath.

Freed from confinement, his thick cock sprang up from a thatch of crimson-red hair, fully erect and dewed at the tip. He lifted it for her to see, stroking up and down once, twice. Below, his heavy sac was tight and full. Hermione's mouth watered at the sight. She wanted to taste him, to know him as he'd known her.

"Later," he offered, reading the desire in her gaze. "Right now, I want to hear you say you love me. I've waited a long time for that."

Her lips parted, and the words flowed from her mouth. "I love you, Charlie. I've loved you for so long, and... I need you, please!"

"I love you, too, baby," he murmured, giving her a sweet, relieved smile. He stepped closer, resting his arousal in between her soaking folds, slicking her essence all over his length, nudging her swollen, delicate clit with his crown. "Now, touch your breasts," he ordered, continuing to stroke her core, teasing, daring. "Play with them. Show me how you like it, Hermione."

Grasping the tiny, dusky-hued nipples, she rolled them ever so slowly between her fingers and thumbs. Pulling with light pressure, as she did whenever she masturbated, she drew them away from her body until the pleasure bordered on pain, and then released them. Caressing her small mounds, she cupped them and arched, showing them off to him, feeling bold and daring.

"I want you inside me," she purred, kneading her breasts and licking her lips. "I want you deep -– so deep that I'll never be able to forget the feel of you."

His blue, unwavering gaze erupted with heat. His cheeks and throat rushed with blood. Against her tender labia, his erection twitched. He drew in a hard, deep breath. "No way will you ever forget me, baby. I won't let you. After this, you'll crave only me -- just like I crave only you."

Fitting his broad crest against her hungry, wet cunt, he held tight to his shaft with one hand, and gripped her hip with the other to assure a smooth entrance. With a little nudge, he pushed in, burying the head of his cock inside her, stretching her opening with its incredible width. 

They both hissed at the pleasurable sensation.

"Deeper," she enticed him, her voice lowering into a husky range she'd never visited before.

He let go and leaned both palms next to her on the table, and bent over her. Their eyes were locked on each other, taking in the others' expression as they finally made love.

"You okay?" he whispered and pushed a little further. Her silken tissues parted for him, letting him in an inch at a time.

"Yes," she gasped as he advanced, his broad shaft gently filling her up. "Deeper."

He throbbed within her as he slowly advanced until he was buried to the hilt. "As deep as I can get, baby," he said, smiling down at her. "As deep as you need."

"Yes," she moaned, actually trembling now with the need for him to move. "Charlie,  _please!_ "

He dropped to his elbows, and she noted the beads of sweat dotting his brow. His lips hovered over hers, his patience and willpower incredible. Long, red-black lashes swept down as he blinked, but never looked away. "Please what, love?"

With shaking eagerness, she grasped his shoulders and dug her nails in. He groaned and his eyes rolled up into his head. Obviously, he liked a little pain with his pleasure.

"Please, fuck me," she uttered in a very soft voice right against his mouth, following up the request with a lick across his lips. "And kiss me. Hard."

With a rumbling groan, he dropped his mouth the rest of the way and captured her in a fiery kiss that sunk her into a state of mind-numbing bliss. His hips moved with precision, withdrawing almost to the tip before sinking deep inside again and again, his strokes full and accomplished, hard and heavy. Her creamy response made his penetration a perfect glide, with just the right amount of friction for them both.

Hermione bucked in his arms, as they came around her, pulling her shoulders up off the table and into the heat of his chest. Throwing her arms around his neck, she held on for all she was worth, enjoying the explosive sparks that centred on where they melded together and shot up through her womb and belly, straight into her heart and mouth. Driven higher by the new angle, she wailed, as the mounting pleasure became an intense animal, grabbing onto her sanity and shaking her hard.

He clipped her pulsing clit and the responsive upper inside of her pussy just right. Just where she needed to be for...

"Oh, God, Charlie! I'm-"

He increased the power behind his lunging hips, propelling her towards the edge of madness. "Come, baby love. Crave what I give you," he enticed around lush, open-mouthed kisses. "Come on. Let go for me.  _Let go._ "

Their bodies collided one last time... and then they stilled, merged... married. Every muscle in Hermione's body tightened, milking Charlie's release in silent supplication. Her flesh quivered in response to his heated spurts answering and filling her. Her soul trembled as he called her name and held her to him. She shattered having found what she'd so long for at last...

"Thank you," she whispered, and smiled when Charlie grunted, assuming she'd been talking to him.

 

Her wish had finally been granted, and she  was healed by it.

 

* * *

 

A second go-around minutes later ended with Hermione sweat-slicked and panting for air as her body trembled through another fabulous orgasm. Charlie talked her down this time, cooing sweet, soft things in her ear.

"That's it, baby. Felt good, huh? You needed that, didn't you?"

Unable to gather enough air to reply, she simply nodded.

"Just relax, Hermione. I've got you. I won't let go."

Slowly, her entire body began to go limp with satiation. The glow took over and she drooped in his arms.

Charlie laid her back on the table, smoothing hair from her cheeks and forehead. His arrogant smile told her that he knew he'd made her come harder than she ever had, but she didn't mind him strutting like a peacock just then. He'd well-earned the ego stroke.

His hips shifted and he widened his stance, and it suddenly occurred to her that he was still deep inside her... and still as hard as iron. 

"I want you to come again for me," he said, circling his pelvis, caressing her clit. "Think you can, baby?"

Awed at just the thought, Hermione shook her head. Once had been quite an achievement for her, twice--a miracle. 

He withdrew slowly, then thrust hard, ploughing deep. Then he reached between them, pinched her clit, circled his hips, withdrew, and plunged into her again, making her back teeth clack together. The table squeaked in protest under them.

A spark of electricity jolted through her pussy.

Oh. OH!

Her eyes widened, her fingernails dug into the wooden edge of the table, her toes curled.

 

His knowing smirk fed her growing arousal.

"Yeah, you can do it. Third time's the charm, right, love? Let me feel your tight cunt clench around me again. Let me feel you let go and give in." 

He moved then, giving up all pretense of restraint and tenderness, thrusting every inch into her over and over again, dangerously rocking the table until it slammed back into the wall. With powerful, pistoning hips, he claimed her as thoroughly as he'd promised he would, leaving no inch of her unexplored with his hands and mouth while that beautiful cock of his dominated her pleasure. Her honey flowed thick and hot around his pounding length as he gripped her knees and spread them wide, opening her up and making her as vulnerable as a woman could be. His gaze locked on where they came together again and again.

"Beautiful," he grunted. Sweat ran down his cheek, dripped off the end of his strong jaw. "You should see how your pussy stretches to hold me. It's like...  _fuck_... like it was made for me, baby."

"Oh, God, Charlie," she cried out in desperation, once more nearing the lash of the storm, but seemingly unable to tip fully into it. "I need... I can't..."

He did something then completely unexpected, and totally arousing: he slapped her throbbing, engorged clit. The little blow heated her flesh, stung it... and sent Hermione into a frenzy of desperate need. Oh, God, how was it possible something so kinky and naughty could make her feel so frantic for more? She moaned around a series of tiny, gasping breaths, her head thrashing back and forth as the pleasure grew to unbearable proportions. Pleas for him to do it again tumbled from her lips, and her Charlie delivered, spanking her little bundle of flesh over and over, even as he hammered into her, his pace as wild and untamed as her racing heart.

Ooh, she was going to hurt later!

She was going to go over the edge again, a third time definitely possible.

Near sobbing from the swelling need within her that was so desperate to be set free, Hermione begged for Charlie not to stop. He obeyed, alternating his slick fingers between slapping and rubbing her clit, between pinching her nipples and squeezing her breasts, and between holding down her hips and wrists while he pounding away inside her. He gave her every desire she'd never known she'd needed and wanted, so when she finally plummeted into the wave of dark bliss, she was crying and shaking from the immense pleasure, a woman reborn.

Charlie held her through her climax, his burly arms encapsulating her in heat and strength and safety. "I love you, Hermione," he moaned, continued to pulse in and out of her with all the power of a pagan god.

When he finally let go, too, he threw his head back and shouted to the ceiling, exploding into her in throbbing waves of heat that filled her and made her feel, for the first time in her life, truly complete.

 

* * *

 

 

"You do realize that we're now stuck in here for the night," he told her. "It's a blizzard out there. Hear it hitting the roof? We're snowed in, love."

Her lie-in momentarily interrupted, Hermione glanced up and glanced in the direction of the shack's small, lone window. Yes, it was a white-out condition, it seemed. Thank goodness their Warming Charm was still in place, as she was sure the temperature had dropped fast outside.

After their amazing sex fest, Charlie had used his wand to transfigure the table into a bed, and their clothing into blankets and pillows, and then he'd taken her under the covers and snuggled up with her for a nap. They'd only just both woken up, in fact, and had spent the last few minutes in that lazy post-coital tenderness that couples in love shared. They touched without words, reveling in the fact that they were finally together, finally able to express their love without fear of ex-boyfriends or ex-wives interfering.

"What time is it?" she asked, bringing hateful reality back into the spaces between them. Were the others worried that she and Charlie might be stuck out in the storm? They should get dressed and head back to the main house. With their wands, they could easily defeat the weather's effects.

"Time for me to do something I've been waiting a long time to do," Charlie told her, extricating her from his side, and picking his wand up from the floor. He  _Accio_ ' _d_ his something from the floor into his hand. 

It was, she realised, a small box.

A black velvet ring box, to be more precise.

Hermione's heart fluttered wildly under her breast as he presented it to her.

"That summer after the family picnic, the one where we collided when you were coming out of the house and I was going in, I knew I'd been good and caught in your magic, Hermione. I knew then you weren't mind to want, but I still couldn't help wanting you. That's why I carved my Samhain pumpkin with you in mind, hoping you'd think of me every time you looked at it, even if we couldn't be together. When I heard you were available, I went immediately to the Apuseni Mountain range to a small commune that has an opal mine, and I pulled this from the rock while thinking of you. I wanted to give you something more than just a silly token, you see. I polished the opal using dragon's fire, and carved the ring with you in mind. I... I hope you like it."

With shaking hands, she sat up and took the box from him. Tears already flowing down her cheeks, she opened it... to find a dragon twined about the full moon. 

The gold ring was feminine, dainty, carved in the shape of a dragon encircling a sizable, round fire opal in the centre. It was a stunning rare opal, reflecting hues of light gold with hints of orange and red, just as a full Samhain moon would look. 

 

"You're the only witch I've ever wanted to ask this of," he spoke very sincerely, sounded hopeful, "but would you please let me be the man still holding your hand when you're a hundred?"

Hermione's heart burst with such happiness that she started to weep. This was it -- the love she'd prayed for over a Samhain bonfire and in the secret dark of her bedroom late at night. A love equal to her that she recalled her parents sharing. A love that would last all seasons.

A collision and melding of two hearts, two souls...the answer to what gave life meaning.

Joyously, she held her hand out and gave Charlie the only answer there was to give. With a smile, he slid the ring home. 

 

_**~FIN~** _

__

**Author's Note:**

> The landscape surrounding The Burrow in this fic is modelled on the idea from the "Deathly Hallows" video game (it's a combination of the 2nd and 6th movie versions – golden marsh out front, trees/grass out back and hills).
> 
> I listened to the song, "Collide" by Howie Day while writing this fic (the title is in homage to such a great song).


End file.
